The Man from California
by blame it on the government
Summary: Jesse came to Tulsa to find his father. Jesse know that's where he lives because it says so in his mom's diary. Maybe he won't find his dad, but perhaps he'll gain three brothers.
1. Chapter 1

Jesse Larson sat in his car right outside the Tulsa, Oklahoma city limits. He had pulled over when he spotted a Dairy Queen and ordered a hot fudge sundae, although he didn't feel in the least bit hungry. He held it in his hands, watching with glazed eyes as the white, creamy substance melted, swirling with the thick brown sauce until the mixture began to drip off the sides and onto his lap.

He had spotted a motel a couple of miles back, and he considered getting a room there for the night, although it was still early afternoon.

Hadn't he seen an advertisement for the world's largest ball of twine? Well, one couldn't pass up that attraction! If he continued north, instead of east to Tulsa, he'd get there before dinner time.

Jesse shook his head. He didn't need sleep. He didn't in the least bit want to see the world's largest ball of twine.

And he didn't want this stupid sundae.

He saw a waste basket on the opposite side of the Dairy Queen parking lot. He took his time walking there, careful to avoid the stubborn icy spots that remained from an earlier winter storm.

It had taken Jesse three days of travel to find himself in this particular part of the world. He hadn't planned on taking the trip. A part of him wanted to be here, but a part of him wanted to be back home in southern California, in his beautiful home near the beach with his fiance.

Three days had transpired since he left, but it felt like a life time.

He tossed his sundae, slowly making his way back to his old Dodge. He planned on buying a new car soon, but he had just spent a large amount of money on the down payment of his new home. Besides, his old automobile still worked just fine. Financially conservative, it was in his character to use a piece of equipment for the entirety of its life before pursuing a newer model.

Back in the warmth of his car, he thought of Laura Peters, the woman who would marry him, and smiled dreamily. Last week, on Sunday, he drove from Los Angeles to San Francisco where Laura's parents lived and asked for their daughter's hand in marriage.

Mr. Peters had smiled warmly at Jesse before embracing him in a giant bear hug.

"I thought you'd never ask," Mr. Peters said as he clapped his soon-to-be son-in-law on the back. "Of course you can marry my baby. I'll be proud to call you my son."

"Thank you, Mr. Peters, sir," Jesse replied formally. Mr. Peters was a retired marine who now taught math at the local high school. The young man feared that any slacking in formality would be considered a sign of disrespect and his request would be denied.

"Stop this Mr. Peters business," the elder man scoffed. "We're family now. Call me Dad."

"And you'll call Mama, won't you?" Mrs. Peters piped in. "That's what Laura calls me and it would just tickle me if you did the same."

"Yes!" Jesse replied excitedly, exhilarated that everything had gone so well. "Thank you so much, Dad, Mama."

It felt weird saying those words. He had never called anyone those names.

On Wednesday, Jesse signed the papers for the wonderful house on the beach. It had four bedrooms, three stories, two living areas, a formal dining room, two-and-a-half baths, and a wonderful view of the beach. Less than a ten minute walk away was a swimming pool. There were downsides, of course. Such a house didn't come cheap, and the commute to work was longer than he would have liked. But, besides that, it would be the perfect place to raise a family. With the amount of space they had, they wouldn't feel pressured to keep their family small.

On Saturday evening, Jesse picked Laura up from her dorm room on the campus of the University of California, Los Angeles.

"I have a surprise for you," he had said.

"Oh, Jesse!" She had exclaimed. "I hope you didn't spend too much money this time!"

Of course, Laura was only kidding. She thoroughly enjoyed the gifts she received, although she did find the diamond necklaces and gold bracelets a little excessive.

They drove out of the busy city and towards the water.

"Are we going for a picnic on the beach?" Laura asked as they grew closer. "I didn't really dress right."

Jesse looked over to her. She wore a light blue blouse tucked into a pleated navy blue skirt and a pair of penny loafers.

"You look beautiful," he murmured back. He took his hand from the wheel, reaching into his pocket to make sure the little velvet box remained where he had tucked it earlier.

As they navigated through the neighborhood, Jesse smiled when he heard Laura's little exclamations as she saw the homes.

"Oh! How beautiful. The people who live here are very lucky!"

Tucked into amongst the other homes, Jesse found the house without problem. He help Laura out of the car. Her arm hooked to the crook of his elbow, he lead her through the white picket fence to the backyard where they mounted the steps to the back porch.

"Won't the people who live here be mad?" Laura asked as she looked out to the beach. Jesse had timed it just right. The setting sun splayed shades of reds and oranges and pinks across the pristine water.

"I know the guy who owns the place," Jesse replied with a small smile. "He'd said it'd be all right."

"Oh, this is beyond beautiful! The beach is practically the backyard!" Laura exclaimed. "Is the person who lives here a doctor, too?"

"Yes, he is."

"A colleague of yours?"

"You could say that."

"Wow," Laura whispered, enraptured by the sight before her.

Jesse waited a few minutes, watching in silence, his arm around Laura. He wanted her to take it all in, to prolong the moment as long as he could.

"Laura," Jesse began. Suddenly, he felt very nervous. He took a few deep breaths before continuing.

"Laura, my love," he began again. "I brought you here for a reason."

He stared into his love's deep brown eyes and shivered at her beauty.

"It's very pretty," she murmured.

"Not as pretty as you," he replied. "In fact, I've never met a woman as beautiful or smart or strong or articulate or passionate or wonderful as you."

In the waning light, Jesse could see her turn scarlet, although that could have just been a reflection of the sun bouncing off the water.

"I couldn't imagine living my life without you," he continued his monologue. "Being with you has come to define me as a person. You have made me the man I am. I honestly believe I'm the luckiest person alive. You have made me so happy. Whenever I'm having a bad day, I only have to think of you before I begin to feel better. The way you love life, the way you smile, has made me appreciate the world more. When I don't get to see you everyday, it makes me sad. I don't want there to be anymore days like that."

Jesse had rehearsed the words in his head for days, if not weeks. He had been terrified he would mess up, for his speech to jumble out of his mouth in incoherent snippets. But he found his emotion tumbling out of him in perfect succession. Now, he knelt, going down on one knee. He took the little velvet box out of his pocket, holding it up with his left hand, his right hand poised at the top to open it.

"Laura Susan Peters, will you marry me?" He opened the box, sheepishly smiling as he revealed the diamond ring.

To his horror, Laura began to cry.

He watched, saddened and confused, as the tears cascaded down her cheeks. He stood up, instantly wrapping her in a hug.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Laura replied, laughing through her tears.

"Then why are you crying?"

"Because I'm happy, silly!"

"So is that a yes!"

She wiped away her tears, looking Jesse straight in the eyes. She always liked his eyes, a beautiful dark brown color. But they weren't just eyes. They were lively, dancing, recklessly laughing eyes. Laura had seen those eyes go from gentle and sympathetic one moment to blazing with anger the next, although she had only witnessed the latter emotion once when a man made a nasty comment to her in a restaurant. If she hadn't pulled him by the arm, her eyes begging for no violence, Laura fully believed that Jesse would have killed that man. Jesse was bigger and stronger than he sometimes realized. Six-feet-two, broad shouldered and muscular, he played football in high school which then led to a scholarship to play ball at UCLA. He didn't particularly enjoy football, but it earned him a free ride at a reputable school. He had to work a little through dentistry school.

"When I first met you," Laura began her own monologue, "it became incredibly apparent to me that you weren't like a lot of other guys. I thought you would be because you're a jock. But you have turned out to be the kindest, sweetest, most respectful man. You're smart and handsome, but you don't let those facts go to your head. You're so strong. You're bigger than anything life has thrown at you. For the past three years, you have been my best friend. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you. There's nothing in the this world I would rather do than become Mrs. Jesse Curtis Larson."

With no more words to be said, they embraced. Laura took her soft, gentle hand, feeling the coarseness of Jesse's stubble. The young man placed his hand on top of his fiance's, kissing it.

When they finally separated, Jesse looked into Laura's eyes, a mischievous smile curling his lips up.

"I have a confession to make," Jesse murmured.

"And what's that?" Laura smiled back

"My friend doesn't own this house."

The look of horror on Laura's face made Jesse laugh out loud.

"Why are you laughing?" she asked, her eyes wide. "We have to get out of here before the guy who does live in this house comes out and calls the police for trespassing."

"Relax," Jesse laughed. "No one lives in this house."

"They don't?"

"Well, at least not yet." From his pocket, he took out the key to the house. He unlocked the door, opened it, and flipped on the lights before standing aside to let Laura inside. He had the electricity turned on the day before.

"If you don't like it," Jesse said, walking into the house behind Laura, "I can always sell it back to the real estate agency. Apparently, beach side property is in very high demand."

"Oh, Jesse, what did you do?" Laura muttered, but a smile spread wide across her face told that she didn't really mean her words. "This must have cost a fortune. How did you afford it?"

"I'm selling my grandmother's house. But!" he added hastily before Laura's face could fall, "it's all right. On Tuesday, I'm going to close on a deal. I just need to have everything out of there by Friday and it'll be all right. I already have most of everything packed in boxes."

"Jesse, you didn't have to do that," Laura whispered.

"It's all right. I know it's been your dream to live on the beach. I know how much you dislike living in the city. You told me yourself you feel claustrophobic."

"I know, but..." She trailed off.

"Don't you just love it?" Jesse asked. His face fell a little. He had hoped for a better reaction. "I thought we could get married in the spring, right after you graduate. I thought you could live on campus and finish out the semester before we move in with each other. I think that's what your folks would like, anyway."

"I do live it!" she exclaimed. "More than you would ever know. I just want you to be happy, too."

"Seeing you happy is what makes me happy. And," he shrugged. "I wanted this house too. Would you like to see the rest of it?"

Laura nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course!"

Jesse acted as the tour guide. He showed Laura the downstairs, the large, numerous windows, the large, spacious kitchen. He took pleasure in her little gasps of delight. They climbed the stairs to the second level. There, Laura got to see three of the four bedrooms, each room spacious enough so that it could potentially very comfortably house two children each, if that's what they decided. The third level, the master bedroom, was what Jesse wanted to show Laura the most. With a large walk-in closet and even bigger bathroom, it took up the entire floor. But the best part was the beautiful French doors that led to a balcony overlooking the ocean.

"I think we'll be very happy here," Laura said as she kissed Jesse deeply.

XXX

Jesse shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. He shifted his car into drive, thinking about the events that brought him to Nowhere, Oklahoma. If it hadn't been for the attic, he wouldn't have even known that's where he needed to be.

By last Tuesday evening, Jesse had everything in his grandmother's home packed into boxes except the contents of the attic. The last time he had even ventured to that part of the house, he had been sixteen-years-old. The attic reminded him of Christmas and Thanksgiving, holidays he didn't celebrate after Grandmother died. In her will, the old woman had left everything in her name to Jesse. This included her house and all of its contents, her car (an old Dodge), and $30,000 between her personal savings and life insurance.

Because of football, he had to live on campus while he earned his undergrad. But during the summer, when he didn't have to train, and during dentistry school, he lived in the house. His grandmother died when he was seventeen years old during his senior of high school. He lived in the house, driving the old dodge to school, for four months before he turned eighteen. He didn't know how much money he had coming his way when he signed onto play ball for UCLA. At first, he regretted it, wishing he had more time for his studies. But, in the end, he stuck with it mostly because he had the whole team behind him. It was sort of like having a family. Still, he always had this notion he would have gotten into medical school if it hadn't been for football.

Laura had graciously offered her time and help in an attempt to clear everything out of the attic. Jesse had a hunch that most everything could be tossed, but he wanted to sort through it just in case, to make sure he wasn't going to throw away some valuable family heirloom.

They had gotten through most of everything when all of a sudden Laura asked a peculiar question.

"Who's Margaret?" Laura said, quizzically looking at a large pile of perhaps a dozen cardboard boxes, wholly from where moths had eaten them.

"She was my mother," Jesse replied softly. "I didn't know her things were up here. I thought Grandmother tossed all her things when she died."

"You don't mention her very much," Laura said whimsically as she wiped the dust off. "What was she like?"

"I don't know. I was only a baby when she passed. Grandmother raised me."

Jesse never really talked about his past very much, but now that they were engaged, he had begun to open up more.

"Well, do you want to open them up?" Laura suggested. "There might be something interesting in them."

Jesse agreed. In the first four boxes, they found nothing but moth eaten clothes. Too far gone to even be donated to charity, Jesse tossed them in the garbage pile. In the next box, they found equally tattered books, mostly classics like Dickens and Shakespeare. But they were in pretty bad shape between age, moths, and water damage. They tossed those as well. In the next box they found stuffed animals. Jesse found himself excited at this find. Maybe they could use some of these toys in their own child's nursery! But evidently, these boxes had also come in contact with moisture for the toys had a thick layer of mold on them as well. With wrinkled noses, they had to, regrettably, throw them away. In the next two boxes, they found old notebooks, composition books, primers, report cards, school pictures, and a couple of yearbooks. This box remained in relatively good condition.

"Maybe there's something in here," Jesse muttered as he excitedly began rummage through the contents.

"What are you looking for?" Laura asked.

"Something about my father," Jesse replied. "I never knew him."

The box contained nothing but school things, absolutely no mention of the man who could have fathered him. But he kept the yearbooks just in case, tossing the rest.

In the next box, he hit the jackpot. Amongst various knick knacks sat his mother's diary in mint condition, the ink still dark and highly visible.

"Wow," Jesse murmured under his breath.

Written on the cover was an address in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

"The Diary of Margaret Annabelle Larson 8897 Rock Hill Road Tulsa, Oklahoma," Laura read.

Jesse opened it up, fingering the yellowed pages and began to read to himself, quickly scanning the pages with his eyes. She abbreviated a lot, especially with names, but he found himself catching on quickly. He kept on trying to find a reference to his father. If his identity was going to be revealed, it was going to be through this medium.

"I keep on reading about this guy name Dar," Jesse said to Laura. "It looks like their dating. She mentions him a lot."

"Let me see." Laura took the diary and read for a minute. "I think it's an abbreviation. She writes D-A-R followed by a period. It must be short for something. Darren maybe."

"Or Darius."

"Maybe be Darek?"

"No, that's spelled with two E's, not an A."

"It could be short for Darcy or maybe Darby."

"Darnell."

"Darion."

"Darold."

"I think you made that one up."

"Hey!" Jesse exclaimed. "I think I found something. Listen to this." Jesse began to read aloud from the diary. "Dear Diary, Today is wow... I don't even know how to describe. Well, I'll just say it. I lost my virginity to Dar. this evening. He's been so kind and hasn't taken advantage of me at all. I'm actually the one who suggested it. It hurt a little bit, but it was nice, too."

Jesse looked up to Laura with wide eyes.

"This has got to be him!" he replied excitedly. He hurriedly flipped through the pages, trying to find a mention of another man. "She's with this guy in Tulsa until October of 1940. That's when she moves to California. Laura, I was born the following April!

"Who ever this Dar guy is, he's my dad!"

XXX

Jesse found himself staring at a city where just a moment before had been nothing but empty expanse of road. He had his map out, trying to find Rock Hill Road. It would be a good place to start. Maybe some of the neighbors remembered the Larson family.

Laura said that it seemed important to him to find his dad. Jesse had never known either of his parents. Now that he had an opportunity to find a long lost part of him... Well, that's just not something someone should pass up.

Jesse had started out in a relatively nice part of town. Now, everything seemed run down. And he still hadn't found Rock Hill Road. Night was fast approaching. He stopped at a red light, thinking about what he needed to do. He needed to get a motel room. He would sleep the night, get a good night's rest, then collect himself in the morning with a fresh start. The light turn green and he put his foot on the gas, except the car didn't move. The old Dodge backfired and the hum of the engine ceased.

"Fuck!" Jesse exclaimed.

He got out of the car and kicked one of the front tires. Of course, that did nothing, but it felt good.

"Hey, buddy!"

Jesse looked up. A man had pulled over beside him and rolled down his window.

"Yes?" Jesse asked.

"There's a DX station not a quarter mile up the road. I'd give you a hand, but I've got somewhere to be. God Bless."

"Thanks!" Jesse yelled back.

The man nodded once to Jesse before rolling up his window and driving away. The young man left the old heap in the middle of the road and headed for the gas station. He had walked only a short way when he came across it. He walked in, smelling the strong scent of motor oil and gasoline. A young blond kid, maybe seventeen or eighteen, was behind the counter, putting something on the shelf. The kid shot him a quick look.

"Hey, Dar," he said. "You're off work early. One sec."

Jesse turned around, sure the kid was talking to someone else. But they were the only two people there. The kid came up to the counter a moment later.

"Oh!" the said when he saw Jesse. "I thought you was someone else. What can I do you for?"

"My car stalled just up the road a bit. Maybe you could help me out?"

"Yeah, sure. Lemme just grab my coat."

Suddenly, something clicked in Jesse's mind.

"Did you just call me Dar?" he asked.


	2. Chapter 2

Soda sighed deeply, bored out of his mind stuck behind the stupid counter. His boss, Mr. Reynolds, had left an hour.

"I can tell it's going to be a slow night," he had said before slipping out the door into the inky darkness. "I want you to organize some things before you go home. Once you're done, you can close up."

Soda had agreed. He filed paper work and stacked miscellaneous boxes, trying to make it at the least presentable. He was in the middle of stacking the last box when he heard the door open. He cast the visitor a quick, sideways glance. For a moment, excitement had built up at the prospect of a customer, but it quickly drained when he saw that it was just his oldest brother, Darry.

"Hey, Dar," Soda said absentmindedly. "You're off work early. One sec."

He finished stacking the box. Dusting his hands off, he came to the counter. He became startled, though, when he looked into the face of the man before him. He was not Darry. He looked like... Well, Soda wasn't even going to think it. The very thought came across as completely absurd.

"Oh," Soda said, vocalizing his surprise. "I thought you was someone else. What can I do you for?"

"My car stalled just up the road a bit," the stranger said, indicating towards the street. "Maybe you could help me out?"

"Yeah," Soda replied, still nonplussed, exasperated. "Lemme just grab my coat."

He found his old, worn canvas jacket hanging on a hook where he had left it earlier that morning. As he pulled it on, the stranger asked a peculiar question.

"Did you just call me Dar?"

"Yeah," Soda nodded, coming around from behind the counter. "I thought you was someone else. It's supposed to snow. C'mon. Let's get your car."

The stranger followed Soda out the door. Both young men shivered as the cold air assaulted them. In the orange glow of the street lights, Soda looked up at the sky to see thick, gray clouds, bulging, threatening snow.

"You ain't from around here, are ya?" Soda asked as they walked.

"No, you guessed right," Jesse replied.

They came upon the car. Soda noted right away that it had California plates.

"You're far from home," Soda said as he began to inspect the car. He couldn't spot many cars, but he knew they'd better get it in the garage before the weather hit. "Go ahead and put in neutral. We can push there. It's not too far."

The stranger consented and together, they pushed the old Dodge to the garage. Soda noted that although man besides him greatly resembled Darry, he didn't have the same muscle mass. He had a good build and his muscles bulged underneath his clothing. But Darry did heavy lifting all day. This guy looked like he might have a cushy job. Or maybe he was still in school. At any rate, he had a better build than Soda.

Finally, they arrived back at the station. Soda opened up the garage and the two finished pushing it in.

"I'm 'fraid it ain't gonna be fixed for a while," Soda said. The old Dodge was now the sole occupant of the DX garage.

"That's fine," he replied. "The name's Larson, by the way, Jesse Larson."

"Sodapop Curtis," Soda replied. The two shook hands.

"I'll just grab the things I need from my car and I'll be on my way," Jesse said as he walked up to the Dodge. He had packed light, opting for a rucksack in lieu of a larger suitcase.

"Do you have a place to stay?" Soda asked as he watched Jesse gather his things. The man confused him. He spoke well and seemed to have an education. Yet, he drove an old car, wore jeans, and traveled with very little.

"I'll find a motel room tonight." Jesse shrugged nonchalantly, hiking his pack onto his shoulder.

"Can't I drive you somewhere?" Soda asked. "I'm about to close shop."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it, but I think I'll manage."

"Careful!" Soda warned as he watched Jesse walk into the night. "This ain't the best part of town, specially at night."

As Jesse walked, he shook his head. He kept his dark-brown hair short. It kicked out in front and in the back, he had a cowlick. He wished he had something, though, to keep his head covered. The air had a chill in it he never experienced in California. He had seen snow a couple of times, but frozen precipitation in LA came only on rare occasions.

Jesse had a feeling that that guy back at the gas station was an important link to his past. He had called him Dar. But maybe that was just a greeting, just a generic colloquial name to call someone, like Buddy or Pal. If that were in the case, then Jesse had hit a dead end. Right now, he couldn't really think about that kind of stuff right now. He needed shelter and some food. Around him, the first few flakes began to swirl around his head. He hunched his shoulders, sticking his hands in his pockets, trying to keep his body heat in.

Suddenly, he felt very stupid coming on this trip. It was a wild goose chase! All he had in his possession were an address, a diary two and half decades old, and an abbreviated name that might mean absolutely nothing. He needed to know, though. He needed to prove to himself that his entire family weren't a bunch of losers. His grandfather drank himself to death. His mother killed herself shortly after she gave birth to her son. His grandmother was kind, but one person didn't prove anything. He needed to meet his father to know what kind of father he'd be.

Suddenly, Jesse became aware of a presence behind him. He felt his body tense up. No one was there just a moment ago. He went to turn around, but before he did, he felt someone rush up behind him. Jesse became faintly aware through his terror of cold metal pushed against his throat.

"Gimme your wallet," a voice seethed into his ear. Jesse could smell his assailant's rancid breath.

For a moment, Jesse couldn't move. Petrified with fear, his mind raced, trying to think of self defense techniques he had learned throughout the years. He became aware of another presence as another person came out of the shadows, walking in front of Jesse.

"Hey, you heard him," the second assailant said, revealing his yellowed death. "Give em your wallet and we won't cut ya to ribbons."

Jesse wanted to panic, but he knew that was worst thing he could do. He closed his eyes, collecting himself for a brief moment.

"What's he doin'?" Goon number one asked. "Prayin? Ain't nobody gonna save you now, baby."

Jesse opened his eyes. He saw Goon number two's mouth move, cuss words tumbling out as he witnessed the anger that burned in Jesse's lively, brown eyes.

Without even thinking about it, letting his instincts take over, Jesse's elbow went up, catching Goon number one across the nose. His action had its desired effect. The man released Jesse to clutch his nose, trying to stem the flow of blood. Goon number two held a look of disbelief in his eyes. Jesse used this split second of disorientation to his advantage. He shot two powerful punches into Goon number two's stomach and then another to his face. Jesse watched as the man stumbled back, tripping over a mailbox before cracking his head on the sidewalk.

For a moment, Jesse stood still, breathing hard. The adrenaline rushed through him in a way he had never felt before. Before he could fully catch his breath, though, Goon number one recovered. Jesse became aware just in time to see the knife, a six inch switchblade, coming down upon him. He managed to grab the mugger's wrist, though, twisting his arm painfully until the switchblade clattered with a loud clank on the pavement. The mugger managed to throw in a couple of good swings before Jesse decked him, catching him under the chin. The man flew back, joining his buddy in a heap on the ground.

Breathing hard, Jesse made a complete 360, making sure no one else lurked in the shadows. From the street, he saw a car, pulled off to the side. A person walked out of it now. Squinting his eyes, Jesse made out Soda.

"Golly," Soda breathed, walking towards his new friend. "I came up right as they came on you. I wanted to help, but it looks like you everything under control."

"I don't know," Jesse shook his head. "I didn't even think. I just acted."

"You fight pretty damn good," Soda commented. "Can I give you that ride now?"

Jesse smiled. He became aware of a smarting affecting half his face, but he shook it off.

"I would much appreciate that."

Jesse climbed into Soda's car. A quick inventory told him that all his items were still intact.

"Is there anyplace in particular you need to be?" Soda asked, looking the man up and down.

"No, there's not. If we pass a motel, you can drop me off there."

"There's not a decent place for ten miles, and I ain't driving that far tonight." As Soda said that, the flurries picked up, the snow coming down in thick, icy sheets. "It's gonna be a full out blizzard and I don't want to be stuck anywhere. We have a couch you can sleep on tonight."

"That's very kind of you," Jesse replied. "I really appreciate that."

"Well, you're bleeding like a stuck pig."

"I am?" Jesse touched his throat where the knife had laid. He was surprised when he felt a copious amount of a warm, wet substance.

"Yeah. And you're gonna have a swollen black eye in the morning. And I saw you take a hit to the ribs. Some might be broken."

Had the fight really been that intense? Jesse closed his eyes, trying to relive what just happened. But he couldn't focus on one specific thing. It all seemed like a gigantic blur.

"Hey, Jesse, are you all right?" Soda looked with concern to the man sitting next to him.

"Yeah. Fine. Tired, that's all."

"We're here. Come on. Need any help?"

"Naw. I got it."

They both got out of the car. Already, the snow had accumulated, fluffy white substance beginning to cover every visible surface.

The house, Jesse noted, was a little older. But it had a certain homey charm, like the people who called this shabby dwelling home loved it with all their hearts.

Soda opened the door and he called out.

"Darry, Ponyboy," He called. "I brought a friend over."

Soda motioned for Jesse to come into the house. The latter of two stepped over the threshold, looking around. Like he had first thought, the house looked very comfortable. Thick shag carpet lay under a couch and an overstuffed easy chair. On a card table off to the side, it looked like a game of Gin Rummy had been recently paused. From the kitchen came the strong scents of cooking food.

"Who's the friend?" a voice called out. A younger boy of perhaps fifteen came into the room. He looked tall for his age.

"This is Pony, my little brother," Soda told Jesse, indicating to the boy. Pony looked up at Jesse and froze.

"Dad?" he whispered in a tiny voice.


	3. Chapter 3

Ponyboy's father, Darrel Curtis Sr., was only forty when he died, but he looked about twenty-five. Everybody thought Darry and Dad were brothers since they looked so much alike. Pony, though, could see the difference between the two men in their eyes. Dad's eyes, his lively, brown irises, held warmth and kindness and compassion. Darry had icy blue eyes that held coldness, spitefulness. When you looked Darry straight in the eye, you shivered from the cold emotion they emitted.

The young man standing in front of Pony did not have those icy blue eyes. He had Dad's eyes, those warm, brown pools of thoughtfulness. In fact, as Pony considered the man more, he could not find anything that would make him think that the person standing before him wasn't his father. He had the same cowlick, the same broad shoulders, and even stood the exact same height. Pony was torn between throwing his arms around him and poking him to make sure that he was substantial, in fact, not a ghost.

Darry came into the room behind Pony, and, just like his little brother, stopped short, staring at the stranger before him with a suspicious look in his eyes.

"What happened to you?" Darry asked, looking Jesse up and down. "Looks like you've been in a rumble."

Darry's voice remained a low growl as he spoke. Usually, he didn't mind when the younger boys brought their friends home, as long as they didn't happen to be alone with girls. But this guy... he reminded Darry too much of someone too painful to even think of.

"He was jumped," Soda replied excitedly. "Two huge thugs came out of nowhere and demanded his wallet. They even took out a knife and threatened to shred pieces if he didn't hand em over his wallet."

"It wasn't really that great," Jesse mumbled, eyes downcast, his hand clenched to his throat, trying to keep his blood from splattering onto the shag carpet. He became aware at this time, after the residual adrenaline dissipated from his body, of the smarting around his rib cage and eye and even some around his jaw. He knew guys that liked to brag about fights, beating guys up, but that he didn't take pleasure in causing harm to others. He could be rough, but only when needed to be.

"No!" Soda disagreed. "Those guys were huge! You knocked them out!"

Jesse had kept his head down, his eyes staring at his shoes, trying to stop the blood from pouring out of his throat. The thugs hadn't cut him fatally. If that were the case, he'd be dead by now. But they had definitely cut deep enough to nick a major artery. He might have been Dr. Jesse Larson, but he was a D.D.S., not an M.D.. He didn't really know about stitching up throats, but if it came to that, he'd think he'd manage.

Jesse was so preoccupied with his injuries, that he didn't catch the names of Soda's brothers. He missed it when the kid called him dad.

"Hey, buddy, are you all right?" the oldest brother asked.

Jesse looked up, locking his eyes, for the first time, on Darrel Curtis. His eyebrows arched in surprised recognition before he lost consciousness.

"Oh man," Darry swore under his breath as the man before collapsed on the ground. Deep red blood began to turn the carpet scarlet.

"I'll go get the first aide kit!" Pony said, jumping as he ran to where they kept it in the bathroom. He came back in a moment later, kneeling the besides the unconscious man, examining the wound where the blood spilled.

"Is he... all right?" Soda asked in a small voice.

"He's going into shock," Pony replied. "We need to get him to the hospital."

"I'll go start the car," Soda said, running out the door. He came back in a moment later, though, his eyes wide.

"What is it?" Pony asked.

"We can't drive out in this," Soda murmured. "The snow turned to pure ice. There has to be an inch of solid ice over everything. I couldn't even open the car door."

"Shit," Pony murmured. He shook his head once, collecting himself. "Soda, go get mom's sewing kit. Darry, could you boil me some water?"

"You're not thinking of..." Darry trailed off.

"He's gonna die if we don't," Pony replied. "Hurry. If we don't, he's gonna die."

While his brothers dispersed on their respective missions, Pony leaned closed to Jesse, rubbing his shoulders.

"It's gonna be okay, Dad," he whispered. "We're gonna patch you up. Maybe tomorrow we can go camping. We haven't done that in a while. Just hang on."

Even as Pony said the words, he knew how ridiculous they sounded. But this man was, without any doubt in Pony's mind, their father or at least a reincarnation of him, as crazy as it sounded.

"Here you go," Soda muttered, thrusting the sewing kit into Pony's hands.

Immediately, Pony began unbuttoning Jesse's shirt. Over the summer, he went to a two week camp focusing on the health sciences. He had been a scholarship case, but whatever hit his pride took, the amount of knowledge he gained was worth it. They mostly worked with dead animals, dissecting them before stitching them up. The theory was the same.

"Damn," Pony swore as he saw the cut. Fortunately, the knife hadn't cut too deep into Jesse's throat. Instead, the goons had made a vertical incision, starting at the base of the neck, going down until it sliced his chest, nearly revealing the bone.

Soda watched, mesmerized, as Pony worked. The younger boy chose a thin needle and a large bottle of rubbing alcohol.

"No time for the water!" Pony yelled into the kitchen. "He's bleeding more than I thought."

He took the alcohol, dousing the poor man's wound, a watery blood-and-alcohol mixture pouring onto the carpet. He then took a lighter out of his pocket, sterilizing the needle with the heat before threading the needle.

At this part, Soda turned away, not wanting to see the flesh coming together like two pieces of trivial cloth. It felt like an eternity before Pony finally sighed and set down his tools.

"Well," the make-shift doctor muttered, "it's not perfect, but it'll do until we can get him to a hospital, whenever that might be."

For good measure, Pony poured the rest of the bottle of alcohol over the wound before spreading a thick glob of smelly ointment onto the wound. He then took some gauze and some white medical tape, wrapping the man up until his chest resembled that of a mummy's.

At this point, Darry poked his head into the living room.

"Is he gonna be all right?" he asked.

Pony tucked two of his fingers under Jesse's ears, nodding his head as he heard the steady pulse, getting stronger now as the blood loss stopped.

"I don't think he lost that much, really," Pony said as he considered the man in front of him. "He was probably tired and hungry and a little shaken from the fight. We should get him the couch."

Darry nodded. Together, the three brothers helped the stranger to the sofa, positioning him so that his head rested on a pillow, his feet propped up.

"We should let him sleep," Soda said. "Come on. Let's go have dinner."

The request seemed strange after the events that just took place, but since their unexpected visitor was now in no immediate danger, they went in the kitchen. None of them had an appetite, though, shoving their mashed potatoes from one side of the plate to the other. Finally, Ponyboy broke the silence.

"Do you think dad's going to be all right?" he asked, looking up at his brothers expectantly.

If looks could kill, the look that Darry shot Pony would have put the latter six feet under.

"What did you just say?" the eldest Curtis asked.

"I just wanted to know if he'd be all right?"

"No. That's no what you said." Darry spat. "What did you just say?"

"Come on!" Pony shouted. "That guy looks exactly like Dad. They even have the same eyes. And he has a nick over his right eyebrow, exactly like Dad."

"You're imagining things, Pony," Darry said softly. " Dad's dead. He ain't coming back."

"But he is back. He's lying on the couch in the living room. I touched him, Dar. I felt his pulse. He's alive."

"He ain't our father!" Darry shouted, standing up and throwing his fists on the table. "He's just a guy Soda happened to meet on the street. And as soon as he wakes up, he's going exactly where we found him."

With that, Darry slammed his plate into the sink before leaving the kitchen, his footsteps thundering through the house. Pony and Soda both cringed when they heard his bedroom door slam.

"What's his problem?" Pony asked, slumped in his seat. He felt tears well in his eyes, shaking them away. He didn't understand this sudden emotion. He should be happy Dad was back.

"Pony, that guy... Well, he can't be dad," Soda whispered. He reached out, taking Pony's elbow. "He looks like him. He looks exactly like him. But it's impossible. Dad died."

"No, Soda!" Pony cried with vehemence. "I've been going to church and I've been praying. I've been praying for Dally and Johnny and Mom and Dad. I've asked God to make sure their all right and that I get to see them again. And He answered my prayers, Soda. He brought Dad back."

Soda said nothing. He just stared into space. He wanted to see his parents again, too. He missed them terribly, especially his mother, who he favored in appearances.

"Hey, did you hear that?" Pony asked.

Soda listened and heard it too: soft moaning from the next room.

The two brothers entered the living room to see Jesse trying to sit up, cringing as he tried to put his feet on the floor.

"Don't move," Pony said, walking over to him. "I stitched you up."

"You did what?" Jesse asked, not sure he heard right in his haze of pain.

"You were bleeding and I stitched you up to stop the bleeding. It worked."

Jesse shook his head, laying back down.

"Can I ask you a question?" Jesse asked.

"Shoot," Ponyboy replied.

"Are you crazy?" The words sounded harsh, but Jesse used a light tone.

Soda burst into laughter. Pony followed and soon, even Jesse chuckled a bit. All of a sudden, everything seemed funny.

Maybe it was because Jesse survived.

Or maybe, Jesse though, maybe it was because he finally found his family.

Without a doubt, Jesse knew that he was somehow related to the boys around him. Now it was just time to find his dad. He was close. He could feel it.


	4. Chapter 4

Night had come in the Curtis house. Each of the brothers had retired to his respective room, each one lying awake in bed, unmoving, silent, listening to the freezing rain hit against the window. A lot had happened in such a short amount of time and no one knew how to digest it, comprehend it in a way that would not turn their world upside down.

Their unexpected visitor sat on the couch. After taking a few aspirins, the other boys left him alone so that the stranger might get some rest.

Jesse began to feel a little better. It seemed that kid knew his way around with a needle and thread. Jesse could hardly feel his wound through the thick bandages. After finding his rucksack on the ground next the pool of his own blood, he collapsed back on the couch, digging in his backpack. He found his mother's diary. For a moment, he just looked at it, wondering how something so benign could have gotten him in so much trouble. He flipped open the pages and began to read.

_ January 21, 1940_

_ Dear Diary, _

_ Dar is my best friend in the entire world, but I think I have come to love him. He has been like a brother to me throughout all these years. He's been there for me every time I've felt sad and needed a shoulder to cry on. He's been brotherly, respectful of me. I think that's why I feel the way I do about him. When I first told him Daddy hit me, I thought he'd be afraid of becoming too emotionally attached to such a damaged girl. But instead he just held me tight and told me it would be all right. I wish I could go live in California with Mother, but she says I can't. She says her lifestyle isn't very compatible for children. I've tried to tell her a million times that I'm fifteen years old and very far from a child. But she says that I'm still too young. I suppose it's better this way. If I lived in California, Dar couldn't come with me. Oh, how sad I would be if I didn't get to see Dar at school everyday! He's a jock, but he's not like those other boys. I love him with all my heart and hope he feels the same way about me. _

_ Truly Yours,_

_ Margaret_

Jesse stopped reading. He knew his grandfather had been an alcoholic. He died of the drink. It ate him from the insides until he withered away and died. Jesse had no idea that he was also abusive. The fact just reinforced the fact that he came from, generally, a pretty terrible family. He turned a couple of pages and kept reading.

_February 7, 1940_

_ Deary Diary, _

_ Daddy hit me again. He gave me a black eye. I was so upset that I ran out of the house without a jacket or shoes. It's really cold out and there was snow on the ground. I had blisters on my feet by the time I got to Dar's house. He took me in, though. He let me take a bath and then gave me one of his shirts to wear, all while in the next room. His dad's at work. His mother, like mine, doesn't live with them. I'm not quite sure where she is. Dar doesn't talk about her much. Dar let me spend the night. He let me sleep in his bed and he slept on the couch, where he stayed all night. In the morning, over scrambled eggs, I couldn't help it and I cried. Dar held me tight. He told me how much he loved me. I thought I would die from happiness. He kissed me on the head and held me tight. Then he drove me home and waited in the driveway while I got ready for school. He's such a gentleman. I'm glad that I know him. _

_ Forever Yours, _

_ Margaret_

Jesse already knew that this Dar guy was his father, but from what he was reading, he was a very nice fellow. Now he just had to figure out why he wasn't there when Jesse was growing up. Jesse didn't necessarily miss having a dad, but he had always wanted somehow to root him on from the crowd during games, to throw a ball around in the backyard. Hell, just a clap on the back, a "good job, son" would have sufficed. He kept on reading, needing to know why.

_ August 28, 1940_

_ Dear Diary, _

_ I think I might be pregnant. My period is two weeks late. I keep on hoping it will come, but it hasn't. I'm really scared. I don't know how to tell Dar. He'd hate me. He thinks he might be able to go to college on a football scholarship. Now I've gone and messed everything up for him. I'll have to tell Daddy soon, but I'm afraid he'll kill me if I do. He already calls me a slut and a whore, telling me I'll find myself in trouble before I turn eighteen. I hate that he's right. I am a slut and a whore. I hate myself. Oh, I can't even stand myself. I wish abortion were legal. There are some doctors who'll do it for you, but it's really expensive and really dangerous. My friend Kate said her cousin died because she got a lousy abortion. Maybe I'm not pregnant. Maybe I'm just late. I can't even think at the moment, I'm so scared. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Margaret_

It sickened Jesse to think that his mother even thought of having an abortion. But maybe she had been right thinking that. Now, sitting here in a strange place, battered and bruised from assault, Jesse began to wish he had never been born. No, Jesse immediately thought, that's ridiculous to think. You're a good person. Life is wonderful. You have a wonderful fiance, a new home, and you're very close to finding out who, exactly, you're father is.

_October 5, 1940_

_ Dear Diary, _

_ I finally told Mother. She's the first person I've told about the pregnancy. She said it was all her fault, me growing up without a mother and all. She's sending money for a bus ticket. I'm going to live with her immediately. I'm not going to tell Dar about the baby. It would just ruin his life. I'm going to break up with him tonight. It's going to be hard. I love him so much. A baby would ruin his life. I'm not particularly smart and I don't have a lot of talent. Having a baby can only make my life better. At least I'll have some family who loves me. I'm starting to show a little, but I've been keeping my clothing really loose on purpose so no one can see my belly. _

_ Love, _

_ Margaret_

Jesse shut the diary closed. So that's how it went. His mom left without telling his dad that he was the father of her child. Jesse doubted his father every knew about his own son's existence. Three months after Jesse was born, his mom killed herself. His grandmother had told him the entire story, about the postpartum depression, the embarrassment of having a child at the age of sixteen. Jesse's mom never told her parents who the father of her child was before she died. Jesse liked to think that his mom planned on telling him when he got old enough.

He placed the diary back in his rucksack, leaning back on the couch, closing his eyes. He didn't think sleep would come easy for him, but, surprisingly, his eyes closed and he slipped into a restless sleep.

XXX

Just down the hall, Soda and Pony laid awake in their bed, on their backs, eyes staring at the ceiling, hands tucked behind their heads. The sleet continued to pound against the wall, relentless.

"You reckon there's gonna be school in the morning?," Pony asked, breaking the taut silence.

"Probably not," Soda replied, his voice a coarse whisper. "Weather's pretty bad."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, just listening to the storm, contemplating their futures, what tomorrow would hold.

"Soda?" Pony said. "What do you think of Jesse?"

"I think he's a nice guy," murmured Soda.

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"I mean, do you think it's possible for somehow to look so much like Dad without being him or at least related to him?"

"I dunno. I guess anything's possible."

"Where's he from, anyway?"

"California."

"And what's he doing here?"

"He never said."

"I think he came to find us."

"We don't even know this guy."

"True. But I think he knows us." Pony thought for a moment. "Do you think he's looking for a hand out?"

"I..." Soda opened his mouth and then shut it. "I don't think so. He talks good."

"Just 'cause he talks good don't mean he's rich. Did you see what kind of car he drove?"

"An old Dodge. He's from California."

"That don't mean he's rich," Pony repeated. Softer, he said, "I still think he's Dad. He has the same... aura."

"Aura?" Soda questioned. "Are we witches now?"

"You know what I mean!" Pony snapped. "He has the same... mannerisms of Dad."

"Pony, you're a dreamer. Get your head out of the clouds and come back down to earth."

Pony didn't say another word. He waited until Soda's deep and even breathing revealed that he was asleep before slipping into a deep sleep himself.

XXX

Darry was the last to fall asleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his father's face flash in the dark canvas of his eyelids. He had been the one to identify his parent's bodies. He still had nightmares about their battered bodies, the life squashed out of them. When he saw Jesse in the living room earlier that afternoon, he had a flashback to that day in the medical examiner's office. Jesse had wounds very similar to that of his father, the cut across the chest, the blackened eye. At first, Darry thought he had seen a ghost, but reality caught up with him. Ghosts did not exist, but for a moment, Darry wished they did. It would have been nice to see Dad again.

Realizing that sleep was futile, Darry got out of bed and headed for his closet. He had found a box in the attic shortly after his parents died. It contained his dad's old things from high school, a moth eaten varsity jacket, a couple of year books, some old photographs, and a stack of letters returned unopened to their sender. This box had a new home on the floor of Darry's closet. He liked to take the pictures out and look at his dad in his youth. The young man in the pictures and the young man holding the picture could have been the same person.

Darry found the letters and opened them, reading them one by one. Dad wrote the same girl, Margaret, every time. The only response that came read like this:

_Dear Mr. Curtis, _

_ Margaret is dead. Please never try to contact me again. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Ms. Larson_

Apparently, the girl named Margaret was Dad's high school sweetheart. But she died, and that's why Dad dated Mom instead.

From the contents of the box, Darry knew that Margaret meant a lot to his father. And if Darry had to guess, there was a reason behind Margaret's sudden disappearance.

If Darry was right (and he suspected he was) then the man sleeping on the couch wasn't a stranger.

He was their brother.


	5. Chapter 5

Two phone calls woke Darry up early the next morning. The first one was from his boss, informing him that work had been canceled due to the copious amounts of ice covering every visible surface outside. The second came from Soda's boss, informing him of the exact thing Darry's boss said.

After answering the phone, Darry set the table for four. He put a whole chocolate cake on the table and a bottle of milk. He tried not to let the boys have chocolate cake for breakfast often, but he reckoned everyone would have a better time if they had something sweet and sugary to consume. For the adults, he put a pot of coffee on.

Darry took his time getting dressed. He took a long shower, letting the warm water run over is sore muscles. He dressed comfortably in jeans and a black sweater, parting his wet hair. A creature of habit, he had awoken at his usual time. The boys, though, wouldn't be up for an hour more.

He waited in the kitchen for the rest of the house to wake up. Reading yesterday's newspapers, he listened with a keen ear, trying to pick up tell tale noises from the living room that would tell him that his guest had regained consciousness.

Darry didn't have to wait long. After about fifteen minutes, groans could be heard coming from the living room.

"In here," Darry called softly, not wanting to wake his two little brothers.

A moment later, Jesse materialized, shirtless, the bandages around his chest tinted a slight reddish color. Around his eye, a purplish shiner sat, framing his brown eye. A volley of bruises existed around his rib cage.

"You can have a seat," Darry said. "I'll go get you a shirt."

"Thanks," Jesse murmured.

He chose a chair as Darry disappeared from the room. He returned a moment later, tossing him a flannel button-up.

"Thanks," repeated Jesse, cringing as he slid the shirt over his arms. Stiffly, he buttoned it up, leaving the last button open. Unsurprisingly, the shirt fit perfectly.

"I didn't quite catch your name last name," Darry said conversationally.

"Jesse Larson."

"Darrel Curtis," Darry said as they shook hands.

"You know, my middle name is Curtis," Jesse said, staring into his counterpart's icy blue eyes. If a stranger were to have walked into the kitchen, he would have assumed the two were twins, not two strangers having their first conversation.

"You don't say," muttered Darry, his attention turned back to his day old newspaper.

"Say," Jesse said, rubbing his jaw where he was slugged the day before, "you weren't happened to be named for your father, would you?"

"Look," Darry set the newspaper down. "I don't really want to talk about anything until the boys wake up. I want to discuss things as a family."

Jesse didn't know if he was included in that family. Just the suspicion that he was gave him a secret thrill.

"Is it all right if I use your phone real fast?" Jesse asked. "I told someone I'd call them when I made in town safely and I never really got a chance to do that last night."

"Well," Darry replied with a smirk, indicating to the phone, "you really didn't arrive safely, did ya?"

All the same, Darry left Jesse so that the visitor might have a little privacy during his call.

"It's long distance," Jesse called to Darry as the latter left the kitchen. "Is that all right?"

"Just keep it short," Darry sighed, disappearing through the kitchen door,

Jesse nodded, dialing the number as he looked at his watch. It was currently seven o'clock in Oklahoma. That meant it was five in LA. Laura had a habit, though, of waking up early so she could go jogging before class. If Jesse were lucky, then he'd catch her before she left for her morning run.

The line ran once, twice. On the third ring, Laura answered.

"Hello," she murmured, still half asleep.

"Hey, baby," Jesse said, keeping his voice soft to match his love's sleepy timbre. "It's me, Jesse."

"Oh, Jesse!" She exclaimed, the sleepiness in her voice evaporated. "I've been worried about you. How's everything going?"

"Well," Jesse hesitated. He wasn't sure how much he should expel. "I haven't found my dad yet, but I think I found three half brothers."

"Oh, that's wonderful!"

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm safe. I can't talk long. I love you and I'll see you real soon."

"Love you, too," Laura whispered.

With that, Jesse hung the phone up, sinking back in his chair, deep in thought.

XXX

Darry took the opportunity while Jesse was on the phone to check in on his little brothers. Sometimes, he looked upon while they slept, just to make sure they were alive. According to his mother, that's what their father used to do them when they were babies in the cradle. Even though Pony and Soda were no longer babies, seeing their chests rise in fall with perfect rhythm made him feel as if they were safe from all evils the world might possess.

This morning, the two boys slept soundly. Soda's arms were thrown around Pony's neck, while Pony slept off to the side, as if he were trying, even in his sleep, to weasel himself out of a stronghold.

They looked so innocent, so young, like they had never felt pain, the sorrow of loss. It almost hurt, looking at those two boys, knowing how much those angelic faces saw and the hurt their hearts knew so very well.

Darry thought for a moment about what he had been doing when he was seventeen, the same age as Soda. Darry paused, thinking hard. That would have been his senior year of high school. He was playing football, the star player, winning Boy of the Year, charming the hearts of some pretty little gal. If there was anybody who had grown old before his time, it was Soda. Sometimes, the poor kid worked twelve hour days. He hadn't dated since Sandy left him, knocked up with some other man's baby. Because he worked so much, he hardly had any time for fun. He went out sometimes with Steve, caught a movie at the Nightly Double, maybe a burger here and there. But besides that, he worked so Pony could stay in school.

Pony... Darry's thoughts turned to his youngest brother, the most innocent and naive. The boy was still just a child. Fifteen was too young to really see the world how it was. Sometimes, Darry doubted that his brother knew exactly how much his older brothers sacrificed for his benefit. That's why Darry often became cross at him. All Pony had to do was keep his grades up and stay out of trouble, and sometimes he even failed at that. At fifteen, Darry couldn't even remember what he had been doing. No doubt he was popping his shirt collar and showing off his muscles to some girl or another. Darry had never been as serious with his school work as Pony was. But Pony was going to go to college. He would have the opportunity his brothers never had. Darry was determined to see his youngest brother wield a degree if it were the last thing he did.

Darry let his thoughts drift again, this time settling on the stranger in the kitchen. Darry was having a hard time figuring that guy out. He sensed hardship from the man, sadness and profound loneliness. Darry didn't know what Jesse wanted from them. There was nothing, in Darry's opinion, that they could give anyone anything meaningful.

Soda stirred in his sleep before opening his eyes, his brown irises darting around the room. They settled on the clock besides the bed. His eyes widened in horror.

"Damn," he cursed. "I'm late."

He saw Darry standing in the open door.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Soda demanded. He jumped out of bed, throwing a t-shirt over his naked chest.

"No work today," Darry said simply. "Too much ice outside. You'd have to be suicidal to go out in this weather. It's still coming down, too."

Soda nodded at the news, unsurprised. He took his time dressing, slowly putting on a flannel shirt, a pair of jeans, some nice, warm pairs of socks. He ran a hand through his tousled hair.

"How's Jesse?" he asked.

"He's awake," Darry replied. "Wake your brother up and we'll talk."

Soda nodded as Darry left the room.

Darry returned to the kitchen. The strong scent coming out of the coffee pot told him his morning cup was ready.

"Want some?" Darry asked, indicating towards the stove.

"Sure," Jesse replied.

Darry took two mugs down, filling them with the steaming, dark liquid.

"Take any sugar?"

"No thanks."

Darry set the mugs down on the table, taking his usual spot. To his surprise, he saw Jesse pour a small amount of milk into this coffee. The only other person he knew who took his coffee that way was his dad.

"Chocolate cake?" Darry heard a voice ask from behind him. He turned around, greeted by the sight of Pony. The boy was clad in a pair of sweat pants and an old, holy sweatshirt.

"I thought we could use a fun breakfast," Darry replied, sipping his coffee. He took his black.

Soda came in a moment later, sitting in a seat next to Pony. The former boy took the initiative to cut the cake, distributing a slice to each person. For a moment, all four men sat in silence, each one darting suspicious glances at one another. Pony was the first to take a bite of his cake. With the edge of his fork, he scraped of a delicate amount of icing, slowly, purposefully, bringing the fork to his mouth.

"Well," Darry said after several moments of pregnant silence. He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He turned to Jesse, his expression forming a question before his mouth. "Why did you come all the way to Tulsa from California?"

Jesse shrugged.

"I don't know, really." Jesse didn't know why he was all of a sudden feeling bashful.

"The truth, please?" Darry demanded, his eyebrows disappearing into his forehead.

"I came here to find my father," Jesse finally admitted. "He's here in Tulsa, isn't he?"

Jesse saw the looks of the three young men before him darken.

"Yes, he lives here," Darry answered. "You can find him in Shady Hill Memorial Park, plot number one-oh-one."

"He's... dead?" Jesse asked. His face, too, darkened, his brown eyes obscured with sorrow. It would make sense. He was probably dead from the drink, like his grandfather. Or gone in a gang fight, or something of the like.

"He died about two years ago in a car wreck," Darry said softly. "I'm sorry you never got a chance to meet him."

They were silent for a moment longer. Finally, Pony spoke up, his voice thick and husky.

"You have his eyes."

"Do I?" Jesse asked, his hand reaching up to touch his face.

"You look exactly like him," Soda confirmed.

"You look exactly like Darry," Pony said, nodding in agreement to Soda's words.

"Do you have any siblings?" Soda asked.

For a moment, Jesse said nothing, just staring hard into the light brown of his coffee. Finally he looked up, staring Soda straight in the eye, brown eyes locking brown eyes.

"Yes," Jesse said. "I have three brothers."

**I don't really like to contaminate a story with author's notes, but I just have to let you, the reader, know a couple of things. First of all, I want to thank you for reading this story. I write for myself, but I love an audience more than anything. Secondly, I love reviews. So, if you read this and you felt any kind of emotion (negative or positive), I would like to hear it. Reviews make my day! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There will certainly be more to come!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I am going to warn you, the reader, that this chapter is probably the worst thing I've written in the past five years. You can read it, if you've want. Just don't tell me I didn't warn you. Oh, and thank you for all who reviewed! If you hate this chapter (or loved it!) review and tell me why!**

For hours, the four young men sat at the table. Mostly, Jesse let the three younger boys do all the talking. With eyes wide, ears intently listening, Jesse learned all he could ever know about his father without actually meeting him. They pulled pictures from the mantel, bedside tables, and photo albums. Through the tales of his brothers, Jesse learned that his dad was not, as he first suspected, a loser.

After they spoke of the late Mr. Curtis, the three youngest Curtis boys turned to their new found brother, curious as to what made him tick.

"So," Darry said. "What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a dentist," Jesse replied. "I specialize in cosmetic dentistry. Have you heard of it?"

"Like braces?" Pony asked.

"Sort of. I also do teeth whitening and implants and that sort of thing."

"That's cool," Soda said, nodding his head in a way that you knew he meant the opposite of his words.

"It pays the bills," Jesse shrugged.

"Where did you go to school?" Darry asked.

"I went to University of California, Los Angeles for my undergrad. I went on a football scholarship. I went to the University of Southern California for dentistry school."

As they talk, the sun came out and warmed the earth, turning the solid ice on the road to slush.

"You live in Los Angeles?" Pony asked.

"Yeah. Well, I actually just moved twenty miles outside the city to a suburb, but I've lived in LA my whole life."

"Wow!" Pony whispered. "Have you ever met anyone famous?"

"Well, my grandmother starred in a fair amount if silent movies back in the day. She even had a few speaking roles before she died. She's the one who raised me."

As he spoke, Jesse began to be aware of an aching in his chest, right where Pony had stitched him up.

"It's really cold in here," Jesse muttered as he rubbed his arms.

"I've got the heat on," Darry replied, his eyes scrunching up. "Hey, are you all right?"

"No," Jesse shook his head. He unbuttoned his shirt, gently tugging his bandages off. With two fingers, he gingerly pushed on the wound, now red and swollen. Thick, yellow pus gushed out.

"What is it?" Darry asked.

"It's infected," Jesse replied with a grimace. "I need to get to a hospital before I become septic."

"Shit," Soda swore.

Immediately, the brothers stood up, preparing themselves to go out. They shoved on jackets and shoes, and together, all four of them stepped out into the cool, winter air. Jesse sat between Pony and Soda in the car. The two younger boys could feel the warmth of a fever radiating from under Jesse's clothes.

Darry pulled into the hospital and immediately, Pony sucked in a large intake of air. The last time he was at this hospital was the night Johnny died.

"Are you all right?" Darry asked Pony. The youngest boy nodded his head.

Together, Darry, Pony, and Soda helped Jesse into the emergency room. They walked to the triage nurse, supporting Jesse in his weakened state.

"What is your emergency today?" the nurse asked as she looked Jesse up and down.

Jesse unzipped his jacket, showing the homemade stitches job, now infected.

"I have fever, too," Jesse said, becoming weaker by the moment.

"Well, let's get you back," the nurse said, standing up. She motioned to a couple of others nurses milling about.

Jesse disappeared behind a pair of swinging doors, leaving his three brothers in the waiting room.

Darry, Soda, and Pony, not knowing exactly what to do, each chose a seat, hoping that they wouldn't loos their brother so soon after learning of his existence.

As Jesse followed the nurses to an examination room, he remembered the last time he was in a hospital. When he was eighteen, between his senior year of high school and his freshman year of college, he developed appendicitis. The symptoms had come on fast, and as he was driving to the hospital, his appendix burst. He spent six weeks in the hospital, not knowing if he'd live or die, without a single visitor. His grandmother was dead, and he hadn't met Laura yet. It was the mostly lonely thing he had ever experienced, and he didn't wish it on his worst enemy.

His legs felt waited down as he walked, like he was walking through jell-o. He felt his head begin to spin, and, before he knew it, the floor rushed up to meet his head.

XXX

How long had Jesse been asleep? It felt like today, months, years, perhaps an eternity. He couldn't remember what had happened or where he was. He called for Laura, for grandmother, for his mother he didn't know. When he finally came to, the events from the past couple days came rushing back.

Jesse looked around his hospital room, expecting to be alone. But to his surprise, a person sat in a chair by the corner, reading a newspaper, his right ankle crossed over his left knee.

"How long have I been asleep?" Jesse asked as he rubbed his face. He saw the IV in his arm. Curiously, he pecked under his hospital gown. His wound no longer held the redness of infection. Instead, it held the pale blushed color of healthy tissue, new stitches holding his wound together.

"About twelve hours," Darry replied, setting his newspaper down. "I sent the boys home. They have school and work in the morning."

Jesse nodded, the facts making since in his head.

"Why did you stay?" he asked, confusion etched on his face.

"We're family," Darry replied. "That's what family does."

In spite of himself, Jesse felt tears well up in his eyes. He was too proud to wipe them away in front of Darry, so he let them flow.

"Hey, buddy," Darry said softly. "You're gonna be all right."

"That's not it," Jesse replied, shaking his head. "It's just... I've never had a family before."

"Well," Darry said, "we're here now."

XXX

At a little after midnight, Jesse told Darry to go home. Both of the young men were tired and needed their rest.

"I'm going to call in sick tomorrow," Darry said as he left. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"You don't have to do that," Jesse protested.

"I know," Darry replied. "I just want to."

With a warm feeling burrowing deep in his heart, Jesse fell asleep, for the first time in his life, feeling happy in a way he didn't know was possible.

XXX

Jesse woke the next morning feeling refreshed and healthy. Like he promised, Darry came back around mid-morning.

"How are you feeling?" Darry asked.

"All right," Jesse replied. "In fact, I'm feeling great."

As if on cue, the doctor entered the room.

"Well, Dr. Larson," Dr. James began, "You have responded well to the treatment. We're going to let you go home today. I'm going to prescribe an antibiotic. Take it until it's gone."

"Will do," Jesse replied.

XXX

Before he knew it, Jesse found himself arranged on the couch in the Curtis' living room. Darry made him a bowl of mushroom soup. It was his favorite, although Jesse was at a loss as to how Darry knew that. He dozed on and off, and, before he knew it, both Pony and Soda were home.

Darry and Soda disappeared into the kitchen to make dinner. Pony took up residence with Jesse, his math textbook out, working on pre-calculus.

"There's something about you," Jesse murmured as he watched his youngest brother work with concentration.

"What?" Pony asked. He turned to look at Jesse.

"I just... I can't put my finger on you. There's something about you..."

"Wait a sec." Pony left the room, coming back in a moment later with a composition book. "Read this. It might explain a few things."

Jesse took the composition book and began to read

_When I stepped out into the sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had two things on my mind, Paul Newman and a ride home... _

Pony watched as Jesse read, his facial expressions, the look of sympathy, of sadness. Finally, he put it down, wiping a tear away from his cheek.

"Is all of this true?" Jesse asked.

"Yes," Pony replied.

Jesse only nodded.

XXX

The next day, Soda drove home from work in Jesse's car.

"All fixed," he said proudly, handing the keys to Jesse.

"What was wrong with it?"

"The fuel gauge was stuck. It said you had a quarter tank left, but you was actually running on empty."

"Oh," Jesse replied. "I guess that could be a problem."

"Yep."

"Well, I guess it's time for me to leave. Soda, how much do I owe you for my car?"

"Nothing," Soda replied. "I don't charge family."

"Nonsense. I don't take handouts." Jesse reached into his wallet, extracting a crisp, one hundred bill, handing it to Soda. "Keep the rest as a tip."

"Are you sure you want to leave now?" Darry asked as he watched his older brother pack his car. "You could stay the night."

"I need to get back to work," Jesse said. He turned to Pony. "Is it all right if I keep that composition book of yours, just for a while? I'll give it back to you when you come visit me in California."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Pony replied, perplexed.

And so Jesse left. They called, they wrote. And then, after a month, when the snow just began to ebb away, he returned, standing on the Curtis's doorstep in the early evening. Darry had answered the door.

"Jesse?" Darry asked, incredulous. "What are you doing here?"

"I was thinking," Jesse began, his cocked to the side a bit, "how it would be a good thing for Ponyboy if he were to live with me in California."

"What!" Darry exclaimed. His older brother and the request came out of the blue. "I don't think so!"

"I had a feeling you would say that." Jesse stepped out of the way, a man clad in a tweed suite coming to light. "Let me introduce you to my lawyer, Mr. Card. I want custody of Ponyboy and I'm not leaving here without him."


	7. Chapter 7

Jesse found himself in Tulsa once again. He sat in his hotel room, a rather nice suite in the better side of town, staring out the window through a gap in the floral curtains. Nearly the end of February, the major snow and ice storms had come to a halt. Spring lay just around the corner. Right now, the clear night sky showed a sprinkling of the brighter stars shining through the light pollution.

With a sight, Jesse stepped away from the window, flopping down on his bed. The events from the last month played in his head, over and over again, like a movie reel. It seemed surreal, like a dream. Nothing like that ever happens in real life, does it?

Jesse's mind left the present moment, sending him back a month ago, to the day he got out of the hospital and released back to his half brothers' home. His youngest brother, Ponyboy, seemed like the most peculiar of them all. Pony, apparently, held a very high IQ and brought home good grades semester after semester. Yet, the boy seemed daft at times, quiet, empty headed. Jesse couldn't figure it out.

Then Jesse read the theme. A whole bunch of things came into perspective, almost blinding in their clarity.

As Jesse drove home, Pony's written words kept on popping into his head.

..._Darry wheeled around and slapped me so hard that it knocked me against the door..._

_ … A dark pool was growing from him, spreading slowly over the blue-white cement... "You really killed him..." _

_ He didn't bat an eye when Johnny told him what had happened, only grinned and said "Good for you" when Johnny told him how he knifed that soc. _

Jesse found himself highly disturbed by the words he read. He knew how easy it was to accidentally fall in with the wrong crowd. For a few months after Grandmother died, he found himself hanging out with a group to tough-looking youths. Fortunately for Jesse, his status in the gang went on hiatus when he found himself in the hospital, recovering from his ruptured appendix. Looking back on it, Jesse was glad things happened they way they did. If he had gotten in trouble with the law, all the hard work he did to get to college would evaporate in the police department as an officer booked him.

Ponyboy didn't share the luck of his eldest brother. Already, it was evident that Pony found himself mixed up with the wrong set of people.

That kid was going somewhere?

Jesse snorted.

Not unless he stopped getting involved with the murders of his peers.

Jesse wanted to help Soda, too, but no one could legally make him live with Jesse since he was past the age of sixteen. In Jesse's opinion, Soda still had hope for a future. He didn't have to work at a gas station for the rest of his life. In fact, Jesse felt sure that if he got Soda to complete high school, he could make the young man an educated, well respected member of society. Perhaps Soda wouldn't go on to college, but Jesse could definitely see him going on to a trade school.

The young dentist though about it all the way home. He made better time, getting back to LA in a day and a half including a few breaks.

He bypassed the city, driving straight to his suburban haven. When he opened the door, he found, surprisingly, Laura in the living room, arranging Grandmother's furniture in the living room. Already, the house felt like home. Jesse shrugged himself out of his coat, hanging it on a wrack that Laura must have set up earlier that week.

"Hey," she said, smiling as she walked up to her fiance. "How was it? Tell me all about it!"

Jesse shook his head, incredulous at the turn of events, embracing Laura in a warm hug.

"Let me comfortable," Jesse replied. "Then, I'll tell you all about it."

XXX

"Wow," Laura whispered when Jesse had finished his saga. They sat together, curled up on the couch. "I just don't know what to say. That's just... wow."

Jesse had edited his tale slightly, telling Laura he had sustained his injuries by tripping on a particularly slippery section of ice and landing on sharp piece of discarded metal. Laura held so much trust for Jesse, she didn't even point out the obvious flaws in the tale.

"That's not it," Jesse replied, shaking his head. "You've got to read this. You're not going to believe it."

At this point, Jesse found his bag, digging in it until he found Pony's composition book. Without questions, Laura took the book, opening it up and beginning to read.

As she read, Jesse watched as her face contorted with horror, sympathy, disbelief, and, finally, sadness.

"Please tell me this is fiction," she whispered, her voice sad and distant.

"I wish it were," Jesse replied, shaking his head. "I even stopped at a public library on my way out of town and fact checked the information written in that composition book to newspapers. It's all true."

"Wow," Laura repeated. "Why do people let kids live like that? Where's social services? Who's protecting these kids?"

"I don't know," Jesse shrugged his shoulders. "But they're my brothers. I have a right, I believe, to be able to protect them in every way I can."

"I know what you're thinking," Laura said as she listened to Jesse's speech. "You want them here, don't you? At least two youngest ones?"

"Yes. I don't think I could get Soda because he's old enough to make those kind of decisions on his own. But Pony's young enough that I could win custody of him."

They sat in silence for a while. Jesse didn't know how Laura would respond to this information. They sat at the threshold of their own journey, waiting to embark on marriage, of the young, childless marriage life. Having Soda and Pony there would impede on that alone together. Even Jesse didn't particularly like the idea. But they were his brothers. He had an obligation to them, written in blood, if not words.

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Laura finally said, breaking the silence.

"So you're not completely opposed to it?"

"No! Not at all! We have enough room here. And they're old enough, they'd be out of the house by the time we'd want to have children."

"Well," Jesse said, his face set. "I'm going to need a lawyer."

XXX

At first, Jesse called around, trying to find a good lawyer in Tulsa. Finally, though, he realized that the best resided in California. It would cost a little more to fly his chosen representative out to Oklahoma and pay for accommodations, but Jesse believed that it would be his best, if not only, bet to get his brothers to a functional home.

He finally found Mr. Oliver S. Card, attorney at law, family law. Jesse came to his consultation meeting with Pony's composition book, his mother's diary, and a series of letters his father sent his mother before her death. Jesse stole the last collection of items from his brothers when they weren't looking, back when Jesse's custody conspiracy was still in its infancy.

"Dr. Larson, please take a seat," Mr. Card said pleasantly as Jesse walked into his office. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, thank you," Jesse replied pleasantly. "I just want to get down to business."

"Of course, Dr. Larson. I understand you want custody of a minor?"

"Yes. But this won't be your regular, every day custody battle."

"Oh?" Mr. Card cocked one eyebrow. "Now tell me. Why is that?"

For a quarter of an hour, Jesse went through his story, about finding his mother's diary, meeting his brothers, and learning of his father's death.

"Now," Mr. Card said, leaning back in his chair. "I think the hardest part about winning the case is convincing the judge you are, in fact, related to the minor in question. Blood always wins and without, we almost have to case."

"My mother references my father several times in her diary," Jesse explained. "Also, my father sent these letters to my mother."

Jesse handed over the diary and the letters. He watched as Mr. Card analyzed them for a moment before setting them back down.

"Right now, this is all circumstantial evidence," Mr. Card said. "Do you have anything else?"

"Yes," Jesse replied. From his brief case, Jesse took out a picture he had taken from the mantle of the Curtis' house. It was a relatively recent picture of Darry, Soda, and Pony.

"This is you?" Mr. Card asked as he looked at the picture, still in an ivory frame, pointing to the eldest Curtis.

"No," Jesse replied. "That's my half brother, Darrel."

Mr. Card nodded his head up and down, methodically, as digested the new information.

"All right," he said. "We have bloodline established. Now, why do you want to have custody of this boy? What about his current home life do you find dissatisfying."

"For the first thing, he's being abused by his brother."

Jesse opened up Pony's composition book and pointed to the portion where Pony described being hit by Darry. Mr. Card read, nodding his head.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Is that all?" Jesse repeated. "There has to be more?"

"He could have been making it up."

"He turned it into his English teacher as fact. Besides, the other things in this are true." In a brief, abridged version, Jesse detailed the contents of the rest of the book. He then told how he had read Pony's exact story through newspaper articles in the local paper.

"Your brother was involved in a murder?" Mr. Card asked, incredulous.

"Yes," Jesse replied, exasperated, but glad he had finally gotten through to the man.

"Well, Dr. Larson, I do believe we have a case."

Mr. Card stood up. Jesse followed suit.

"It'll be my pleasure to represent you," Mr. Card said, strictly business, as the two men shook hands.

"I'm glad to here that. Don't plan on losing this case."

"Oh, Dr. Larson, I never do."


	8. Chapter 8

Jesse's thoughts slowly dissipated as he finally found his solace in sleep, drifting off in his warm, cushy hotel room.

Across town, though, things were far from peaceful at the Curtis house. Pony, curious to see who would actually knock rather than barge right in, stood besides Soda as Darry answered the door. Needless to say, the two younger boys heard the entire altercation between Darry, Jesse, and Jesse's lawyer.

Pony remained quiet, his face turning paler and paler as he heard the words coming from Jesse's mouth. The boy felt some relief when Darry told Jesse no, but that relief quickly left, replaced with a deep, mortal fear.

Darry had, upon seeing the lawyer, slammed the door, alarmed. He acted without thinking, not even aware of his actions.

Behind him, Pony began to cry, screams of anguish reverberating off the thin walls of their small home.

"Shh, Pony," Soda tried to console his baby brother, but it did not work.

Pony slumped to the ground, his arms wrapped around his head, trying to pillow own sobs.

"Come on, Pony," Darry said softly, dropping to the ground besides the boy. "You ain't afraid of him, are ya?" Darry tried to laugh, but his thin chuckle came out as dry and superficial.

"Yes!" Pony cried, hugging himself harder. "Darry, he's got a lawyer!"

"That don't meaning nothing," Darry whispered. "We're your family. That's got to count for something."

Pony remained silent for a few minutes, wiping off the last of his tears. He stood up, pushing past his two older brothers, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Soda asked.

"Just out on the porch," Pony replied. "I just need... I just need some time to think."

Darry started to follow Pony out, but Soda stopped him.

"Just let him be," Soda whispered.

Darry nodded.

Pony stepped out into the cool air of late winter. Things had started to warm up, but the air still held a mild chill. The boy reached into his pocket, extracting a lighter and his back of cigarettes. He lit up, taking a puff, sighing as he exhaled.

As the nicotine calmed his nerves, his mind slowly began to think, mulling over the events of the past month. When Pony learned that he had another brother, one even older than Darry, it didn't terribly surprise him. After all, one could only go through so much before becoming numb to such would-be life changing events.

Pony had crossed that threshold a long time ago.

After he finished his first cigarette, he reached into his pocket, taking out another.

Having a half brother didn't brother Pony in the least bit. It wasn't like his dad fooled around while he was married to Pony's mother. Dad had dated Jesse's mom before he became romantically involved with the three younger boys' mother.

At first, Jesse came across as nice, brotherly even, happy to find some family of his own. But why was he now so intent on obtaining custody of Pony?

The youngest Curtis exhaled a plume of smoke into the cool dusk. The sinking sun had died the sky a bloody red as it sunk deeper into the horizon.

Jesse seemed to be, at the least, moderately. He was a doctor, after all.

He's a dentist, Pony thought wryly. He shook his head, taking another drag.

Socs were rich. And what did they do? They through beer blasts and beat up the less fortunate just for the fun of it. Were there socs in California? Maybe that's not what they were called. But everywhere you go, there will always be the rich and the poor. Maybe Jesse had so much money, he didn't even know how to have fun anymore. He had to go and torment people in new and terrible ways to even remotely entertain himself.

That's ridiculous, Pony thought.

If Jesse were to get custody of Pony, what would Jesse do? Of course the older boy didn't really want to have his crybaby of a little brother live with him. Of course, Jesse wouldn't know Pony was a crybaby. Jesse didn't know anything about any of his brothers. For all intents and purposes, they were complete strangers.

Pony stamped out the butt of his second cigarette, crushing in into the ground with the toe of his worn, canvas sneaker.

The boy liked to just sit and think. It wasn't uncommon for him to sit outside and blow through a pack of smokes after dinner and homework. It calmed his mind, relaxed him.

Absentmindedly, Pony fumbled in his pocket for another cigarette, his hands still shaking a little when as he extracted a crumpled, empty package of Kools.

"Damn," he swore, nervously fidgeting with his lighter.

He sat down on the steps, burying his head in his arms, his hands rubbing his bare arms.

In the last few years, Pony had been asking himself the question "why?" an awful lot. Why did his parents die? Why did he have to be poor? Why did two of his best buddies die?

Why did he have to have a long lost half brother who wanted custody of him?

\ Why was he out of smokes?

"Hey," a soft voice said.

Pony jumped, startled at the unexpected voice.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare ya," the voice spoke again.

"S'okay, Soda," Pony mumbled, scooting over to make room for his brother. Soda plopped down next to him, elbows resting on knees.

The two remained silent for a few minutes. Wordlessly, Soda took a pack of Camels out of his shirt pocket, offering one to Pony before lighting up himself.

"You never smoke," Pony noted after several long minutes, taking a long drag, the embers lighting up like fireflies.

"Yeah, well," Soda said. He blew a puff of smoke out in a straight line, his head tilted up. "I think even Darry needs a smoke today."

"Shoot." Pony shook his head. "Ain't that the truth."

Pony had wanted Soda to remain calm and cool and tell him that everything would be all right, like he always did. But there was something strangely calming about sharing a smoke out on the porch. It felt commonplace, a sense of normalcy in an otherwise crazy world.

"How do you think this is going to play out?" Pony asked. He finished his smoke, looking expectantly to Soda for another.

"How do I think what's going to play out?" Soda lit another cigarette, passing it to Pony.

"Don't play dumb."

Soda shrugged.

"I dunno," he mumbled. "I just don't know."

The sat in companionable silence for a moment before Pony broke it.

"You know, I don't even care no more."

"What?" Soda looked to his kid brother, now legitimately confused. "You don't mean that."

"I mean, even if Jesse does get custody of me, it ain't gonna change nothing. I'll just run away back home to Tulsa."

"You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Well." Soda stood up, stretching his back out. "It ain't gonna come to that 'cause we ain't gonna lose." Soda saw Pony start to open his mouth, but Soda began to talk again. "I'm gonna go inside. Do you want to come?"

"Naw. I think I'll just stay out here. Got any more smokes?"

"Here." Soda tossed Pony his nearly full pack of Camels. "Don't stay out here too long, kay?"

Soda watched Pony nod as he walked back into the house. The warmth greeted the middle brother, and he stopped shivering, not even aware that he had begun.

"How's he doing?" Darry asked. Usually at this time in the evening, the eldest Curtis sat in his easy chair, reading the paper. But tonight, he had the phone book out, scanning for something in particular.

"Better than I thought," Soda replied, dropping his weary body onto the couch. "Darry, how are we gonna do this?"

"We'll make it," Darry murmured, his eyes glued to the pages in front of him. "We always do."

"Darry, what are you lookin' for?"

"A lawyer."

"How're we gonna afford a lawyer."

Darry sighed, putting the book aside for a moment, looking Soda straight in the eye.

"We'll make it," he repeated. "We always do."

XXX

"The trick," Mr. Card said, shoving a bite of egg and toast into his mouth, "is to get the boy on your side."

Mr. Card and Jesse sat in the hotel restaurant, eating breakfast and drinking weak, watery coffee.

"Get him on my side," repeated Jesse. "Right. How should I do that?"

"Well, you know." Mr. Card took a gulp of coffee flavored with copious amounts of cream and sugar. "Buy him presents. Take him out to ball games. Show him that living with you is a better option than living here. A large part of a judge's decision is based on what the child in question wants. If the boy... what did you say his name was?"

"Ponyboy."

"Well, if Ponyboy," Mr. Card made a face to show that he clearly found the name completely ridiculous, "shows a strong desire to live with here than with you, then the judge will take that information into account before making his decision."

Jesse nodded, his face set.

"Well, that shouldn't be too hard. The kid hardly has anything decent to wear. And I bet he's never been to a professional ball game or had enough money to go out and really have a good time with his friends."

"Try to find him without his other brothers present. I bet you anything he wants to escape this dump as much as you want to get him out of it."

"This is going to be easier than I thought."

XXX

Jesse sat outside the local high school. He reckoned it was the school Pony attended since it was the closest to his house. Right away, he realized that he had found the right place for, running round and round the track, was his youngest brother, clad in gray sweats. Jesse parked the car, the lot draining of cars as class dismissed for the day. For an hour, Jesse watched Pony practice from the bleachers, amazed at his speed and agility. Finally, the coach blew his whistle and the track team disappeared into the field house house.

Fifteen minutes later, Ponyboy reappeared, his hair wet from the shower he just took. He began walking down the sidewalk, obviously on his way home. Immediately, Jesse ran after him.

"Ponyboy, hey, Ponyboy! Wait up!"

Ponyboy looked behind him, his face scrunching up into a frown.

"What are you doing here?" the boy asked.

"I just wanted to talk to you."

"Well, I don't want to hear it."

Pony turned his head, continuing his walk home.

"Hey, let me at least give you a ride home."

"No thanks. I'd rather walk."

"In this weather? It's pretty cold."

"It's not that bad."

"What are you doing this afternoon?"

"I've got homework. But it really ain't your business."

"Are your brothers home?"

"No. They're both working late tonight." Pony shut his mouth, pursing his lips together, as if he regretted what he said.

"Then come with me. They won't have to know it."

Pony arched his eyebrows.

"Let me rephrase," Jesse said, throwing his hands up defensively with a sigh. "I think it's important that you get a chance to meet me and decide for yourself decisions that your brother, Darrel, is trying to make for you. What do you say?"

"No funny business?" Pony asked. But even as he said it, his shoulders began to relax, his defenses coming down.

"No funny business, I promise."

"Okay, then."

Pony followed Jesse to his car, a newer Ford. It was a nice car, but not anything too special. Pony slid into the front seat, setting his books and school bag besides him. Jesse got into the driver's seat, turning over the engine until the ignition started, purring like a large cat.

"So? Jesse asked as he began to drive away from the school. "Are you hungry?"

XXX

Jesse pulled into the Dingo. Pony had given him directions and they somehow ended up at the drive-in.

"Get whatever you want," Jesse said as the waitress came up the car. "It's my treat."

"Hi. What can I get for y'all?" the pretty young girl asked through the open window, her pen poised over a notepad.

"I'll have three cheeseburgers, five barbeque sandwiches, two orders of fries, four orders of onion rings, a chocolate shake, a slice of cherry pie, and a coke," Pony said. He actually wasn't that hungry, but ordering all that food on Jesse was the only kind of revenge he could obtain at the moment.

"Wow. Some has quite an appetite," the waitress giggled as she wrote down the gigantic order. She turned to Jesse. "What can I get for you?"

"I'll have the same."

"All right." The waitress denoted Jesse's request. "I'll have that right out for y'all."

Jesse smiled politely at the waitress and waited until she was a good distance away before he started with what he wanted to say.

"You're a smart kid, Ponyboy," Jesse began. "It's apparent to me that your going somewhere. I'd like to help you get there."

"All right." Pony kept his words tight and succinct. He didn't really know why he was giving Jesse his time, but he sure didn't deserve his words.

"Take a look at this." Jesse pulled out brightly colored pamphlet from the glove box, handing it to Pony.

"Epsilon Academy," Pony read, looking at the smiling youths on the cover.

"If... you come to live with me in California, that's the school you'll attend. It's the best secondary school this side of the Mississippi. Over 90 percent of the students who attend Epsilon graduate from college and of those, over 50 percent receive their degrees from one of the top ten universities in the country."

Pony didn't say anything. He just leafed through the pamphlet. He saw pictures of boys wearing navy blue blazers and khaki pants, carrying books, and sitting at desks look studious.

"I only see guys in here," Pony murmured. "Are there girls at this school?"

Jesse laughed. Pony became startled. His laugh sounded exactly like Darry's.

"They actually just let girls in about two years ago, so there are definitely more boys than girls, but there are some. But, seriously, Ponyboy, if you come with me, you will go somewhere in life, to college or medical school or law school or any other place you could ever imagine."

"All I want to go is here," Pony said, his voice small. "This is the only place I've ever known. It's my home and I love it."

Jesse thought his heart would break.

"Just think about it, okay?" Jesse replied, his voice echoing Pony's soft timbre. But even as he said it, he wondered if he was doing the right thing.


	9. Chapter 9

Pony sat in his room. He had completed all of his homework and even studied for a chemistry test next week. Now, he read one of the new books that Jesse had given him in spite of himself. Across his room, he tried to hide the other gifts: a hideous madras shirt, a pair of roller skates, a few pairs of pleated pants in khaki, navy blue, and black, a few more buttoned down shirts in various colors, and a huge Merriam Webster Dictionary among other books.

The books, Pony could use. But the clothes? He would never wear those in a million years. And the roller skates? That was kid stuff. Did Jesse think Pony was an infant?

Pony heard the front door open and then close.

"Pony, I'm home!" Darry called.

Pony waited a few minutes, knowing that Darry would enter the kitchen in a minute and see the all the food, still untouched, from the Dingo. When Jesse dropped Pony off at home, he had insisted that Pony take all the food that both of them had ordered. In white paper bags and wrapped in wax paper sat a half dozen cheeseburgers, ten barbeque sandwiches, four orders of fries, eight orders of onion rings, and two slices of cherry pie. Pony drank one coke and one milkshake and placed the rest in the ice box.

"Pony?"

The question came gliding through the walls. With a sigh, Pony put his book down, walking from his bedroom to the living room.

"You called?" he asked his brother.

"Where did you get all this food?"

"The Dingo."

Darry sighed, sitting down at the table.

"Do I even want to to know."

Pony shrugged.

"Really, it's better you not ask too many questions. It's not poisoned. Go ahead and have some."

Darry shook his head, choosing a paper bag and unwrapping a cheeseburger. He didn't mind too much that it was cold. As he chowed down absentmindedly, his mind replayed the events from his day.

He took a long lunch, forgoing two hours of pay to drive downtown to meet with A. W. Gibson, Attorney at Law. Earlier that day, he had called the office and arranged a meeting at noon. Darry ate his lunch in the car, a turkey sandwich and an apple, rehearsing in his mind exactly what he would say to this lawyer.

He arrived at the shabby little office, nothing more than an old house squeezed between two larger buildings. As he walked from his car to the building, he lamented that he couldn't have dressed better. Alas, he came directly from work, still smelling of sweat and body odor, clad in a pair of jeans, work boots, and a flannel shirt. He had shaved that morning, though, and he smoothed his hair out of its hard hat shape and buttoned the top button of his shirt so it no longer revealed the wife beater he wore underneath.

He hesitated for a moment at the door, taking a deep sigh before turning the knob and walking in. A rather simple waiting area greeted him with vinyl seats and old oak coffee tables with outdated catalogs sitting upon them. He looked around for a minute before spotting the receptionist digging in a drawer at a desk near the front of the room. Darry walked over.

"Excuse me," he said, clearing his voice slightly. "I have an appointment today with Mr. Gibson."

The receptionist looked up, and, for a moment, Darry found his voice caught in his throat. She was young, perhaps barely out of her teens, with long, wavy brown hair and deep, ocean blue eyes. She wore a modest navy blue blazer with a white blouse and a long navy pencil skirt. She kept her hair loose, those waves cascading over her back.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, looking up. "You must be Mr. Curtis, my new client."

"What?" Darry asked. He was confused for a moment until realization dawned on him. "But you can't be a lawyer! You're a..." Darry stopped short, not sure how to finish his sentence.

"A what?" the girl asked. She right herself, her hands on her hips. She looked at Darry with a piercing look, her blues eyes penetrating his soul. "A woman?"

"I wasn't going to say that," Darry blurted. "You're just a kid."

"I'm twenty-six," the girl replied. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one," Darry mumbled.

"Look who's the child," she replied. She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Let's go to my office. We can talk there."

Moments later, Darry found himself sitting across from the gorgeous Miss Gibson.

"The 'A' stands for Annabelle," Miss Gibson explained as she settled herself in front of her desk. "I prefer to use my initials so prospective clients won't be turned off by my gender. Honestly, it hasn't helped. I suspect you'll continue your search for a lawyer now?"

"No." Darry shook his head. "Of course not. I mean, your rates are what I can afford. Not that you're cheap. I'm just... on a budget."

Darry's ears turned bright red as he looked down, suddenly embarrassed at himself.

"I understand," Miss Gibson replied with a sigh. "I have a 73 percent success rate, which is actually quite impressive. But, like I said, most people would prefer to not have a woman represent them. I charge what I know I can get."

Darry nodded.

"I'm not actually sure I can afford you."

Miss Gibson shook her head.

"Let's not talk money right now. Tell me about your situation and I'll tell you if I can help you or not."

For about a quarter of an hour, Darry told Miss Gibson all about Jesse, how he came from nowhere claiming (accurately, in Darry's opinion) to be their long lost half brother and how he now wanted custody of his younger brother. Darry also told Miss Gibson about his parent's deaths.

"Hmmm..." Miss Gibson said as Darry came to the end of his tale. "You have a highly unusual story. Are you sure Jesse is your brother?"

"Absolutely," Darry replied with conviction. "If there's anything I'm sure of, it's that."

"Yes." Miss Gibson nodded her head. "But is there any concrete evidence? Something that definitely ties him to your family?"

"Just wait until you meet him. Let's just say no one's going to doubt that we're related."

"All right." That idea still had legitimacy, so in her mind, she still kept it on the table. For the benefit of her client, though, she continued on. "You said your brother has lived with you since your parents' passing. How did he take the news that Jesse wanted custody of him?"

"He freaked out." Darry shook his head. "It usually takes a lot to make that kid cry, but he broke down. I mean, bawlin' like a bay."

"That means he'd rather live with you. That's good for two reasons. One, he'll cooperate with us. Two, he'll let the judge know and that'll be good for us to win. Is there anything specific your concerned about?"

"Well..." Darry nervously squeezed his hands. "We don't got a lot of money, but Jesse's loaded. He's a doctor. How will that play into things?"

"I work in family law," Miss Gibson started. "I've seen rich parents neglect and abuse their children just as much as poor parents. The judge will do what is best for the child, even if that means sending him to live with the poorer people. How much time the guardian can commit plays as much of a role, if not bigger, in the judges decision. The fact that you've known your brother his whole life and he loves you is more important than all the money in the world. Mr. Curtis, I think I'll be able to help you keep your little brother. He seems really important to you."

"He is. I almost lost him once. I don't want to lose him again."

"Oh, Mr. Curtis, I don't intend for you to lose him. Trust me." Miss Gibson placed her hand on Darry's arm, sending goose bump's all up and down his arms. Darry mentally thanked himself for wearing long sleeves.

"Thank you," Darry whispered. "You don't know what this means."

XXX

"How did your day go?"

Pony startled Darry out of his thoughts as the younger boy joined his brother at the table.

"It wasn't anything special," Darry replied, moving onto the cold, greasy fries.

Pony opened his mouth to say something, but three staccato knocks on the front door cut him off before he began. The last time someone knocked on the door unexpectedly, it was Jesse, informing the Curtis' he wanted custody of Ponyboy. Both brothers felt their stomachs sinking as they traveled together to the front door. Darry slid the door opened, coming face to face with a police officer. The last time a police officer came to their door, he informed them that their parents had died. Instinctively, both brothers immediately thought of Soda. He was supposed to get off of work a half hour ago.

"How can I help you, officer?" Darry asked, his throat closing up from fear and worry.

"Are you Darrel Curtis?" the officer asked.

"Yes sir. Is this there a problem?"

"It depends." The officer handed him an envelope. "This is your summons to appear in court. Good day." With a flip of his hat, the officer left the porch, returning to his squad car and driving away.

"Court?" Pony asked.

He hovered over Darry as the latter boy opened the envelope.

"It's nothin' we didn't already know," Darry muttered, sitting down heavily on the couch. "It's just lettin' us know that I have to appear in court in two weeks or else."

"Or else what?" Pony asked.

"Or else I forfeit custody of you."

XXX

Pony laid in bed, Soda breathing deeply besides him. Pony couldn't sleep, the events from the day playing through his head, over and over and over again like a broken record. How long would he have to sleep in this room, with Soda's arm tightly wrapped around him? He worried his days were numbered.

Slowly, the worry still building up in his mind, Pony drifted into a restless sleep.

XXX

Pony ran on the beach, clad in a pair of swimming trunks. He could feel the warm sun on his skin, tanning him a smooth brown color. He could feel the eyes of pretty girls in bathing suits stare at him as he ran. He felt pretty tuff, handsome, even. He ran into he came until he came to a stone building with teenagers clad in navy blazers and khaki pants roaming around the grassy courtyard. He looked at himself, not too surprised to find that he was dressed in a similar fashion.

"Join us."

The voices rose from the youths in front of him, rising in volume.

"Join us."

"Join us."

"JOIN US!"

XXX

Pony woke with a start, sitting up in bed abruptly, gasping as he did.

"What is it, Pony?" Soda asked sleepily as he too woke, sitting up to get a good look at his brother.

"Just a dream," Pony murmured, sinking back into bed.

"Was it a bad one?"

"No," Pony replied. "Just surprising."

Soda nodded, throwing his arm around his baby brother and going back to sleep.

Pony didn't sleep for the rest of the night. He kept thinking about his dream, thinking about how much he liked it, how it could be his life.

All he had to do was tell a judge and his dream would come true.


	10. Chapter 10

**Before you read this chapter, I just want everyone to know that the timeline featured in this story is not realistic. Custody hearings, like criminal court cases, usually take months to orchestrate. I have decided to use my creative license to expedite this process so that the story can maintain a fast paced feel. I hope you like it. If you don't, please review and tell me why! I really like hearing what you have to say, even if it is something negative. So, if you have nothing nice to say, please, tell me! Your comments can only make me a better writer! Thank you to all of you who have taken the time to review. Enjoy!**

"All right," Miss Gibson said, her face furrowed in concentration

She and Darry sat in her small office, their second meeting, discussing the events that would happen in the next two weeks.

"All right," Miss Gibson said again, looking her client straight in the eye. "This is what's going to happen." She paused again, thinking hard. "Have you seen a lot of court room dramas?"

"Like movies?" Darry replied, confused. "Yeah. I've seen a few. Why?"

"Well, our whole process isn't a whole lot different than what you see in the movies. Well, there's no jury and of course, no crime was committed. But besides that, it's the same idea." Miss Gibson walked around her office, pulling the blinds up and opening the windows. They finally had their first warm day since winter came.

"So there'll be witnesses and stuff?"

"Sort of." Miss Gibson fidgeted with a stuck window, jimmying the lock up and down. "Both sides will call people in to testify. Lawyers will interview their respective testifiers and then the other lawyer will cross examine."

"So what will these testifiers need to say? That I'm a good guardian?"

"That would be good," Miss Gibson agreed. "But we could get people who work with you to testify on your behalf. Or people who know your little brother really well."

"Like teachers?"

"Yes. Definitely! But it's more than just that. And this is the hard part, since Jesse lives in California."

"What's that?"

"Well, it's usually standard in custody hearings to form a sort of... attack on the opposing side. We get people to testify against Jesse, say why he would be a bad guardian."

Darry turned white at Miss Gibson's words.

"Miss Gibson?" Darry asked.

"Oh, please don't call me that," she said, shaking her head. "It makes me sound like a dowdy school teacher. Call me by my name first, Annabelle."

"Annabelle," Darry amended himself. "Will Jesse be able to... attack me? You know, with testimonies against me and stuff?"

"Yeah." Annabelle recognized the horror on her client's face, and she rushed to offer comfort. "But you shouldn't have anything to worry about. You sound like a pretty stable guy."

"Thanks," Darry mumbled. "But I ain't no saint and I sure as heck ain't no perfect parent."

"Mr. Curtis, is there anything you would like to tell me?"

Darry thought long and hard.

"My name's Darrel," he whispered. "Mr. Curtis was my father. But I'm just Darrel... Darry."

"Is that all... Darry? Or is there more? I need to know everything so I can help you as much as I can. Is there something that happened that Jesse could use against you?" Annabelle looked at him with her beautiful, piercing blue eyes, as clear and innocent as the ocean or a cloudless sky.

"Pony got into some trouble about a year ago," Darry mumbled, eyes downcast.

"What kind of trouble?"

"He was out with his friend late at night and they got jumped. Pony was almost drowned in a fountain. Well, in self-defense, his friend stabbed one of the muggers and killed him."

"And so what happened after that?"

"They ran. They hopped on a cargo train and went out to the countryside, way out in Windrixville."

"Wait." Annabelle held her hands up. "I read about this in the paper. I should have put two and two together. It's not like your little brother has a terribly common name, after all." She thought hard for a moment, chewing her lip. "If I'm not mistaken, your little brother helped save some small children from a burning building. If anything, that reflects upon your parenting. It could even help us out in court."

"Yeah, well." Darry did a have shrug. "There's something that wasn't in the papers."

"And what was that?"

"I..." Darry shook his head, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I hit him."

"You hit who?"

"I hit Pony. It was just once, an accident." Darry could feel hot, angry tears bubbling to his eyes, but he blinked them away before Annabelle could see.

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"Pony did. He wrote it in his English theme. He turned it into his teacher."

"Well," Annabelle said through a small smile, "the fact that Jesse doesn't really know you and your family works to your advantage. He won't know the right people to talk to. And the fact that he's from so far away means that he'll have to send for and provide accommodations for anyone testifying on his behalf." At this point, she gently grasped her client's elbow. "Darry, you have to believe things are working in your favor. Everything will be just fine."

"I know," Darry whispered back. "I just feel so overwhelmed. I just can't imagine a life without my baby brother. It just makes me sad to even think about not seeing him everyday."

"And that," Annabelle said, a huge smile forming across her face, "is why we'll win this case. Now, I need you to write anyone's name down who you think will be able to help us. Think of everyone. Bosses, neighbors, old high school teachers. Anyone who can let us know how wonderful of a guardian you are."

After about fifteen minutes, Darry had a small list of names. He had listed his next door neighbor, Mrs. Ferguson, who used to make the boys cookies when they were younger. They hadn't had a good conversation in a few years, but she might offer a good testimony. He had also put down his boss from his job as a roofer and his coworker, Bobby, who he often ate lunch with. He also listed Pony's science teacher, the same one who had gotten the boy the scholarship at the science camp.

"Is that all?" Annabelle asked.

"All I can think of," Darry shrugged sheepishly.

"Hmmm... I really need to get these names in by tomorrow. The hearing is in twelve days, after all. Here." Annabelle wrote something down on a piece of stationary and passed it to Darry. "You call me when you think of new names. That's my house number. First thing tomorrow, I'm turning in the list, so try to call me before you go to bed tonight, all right?"

"Okay," Darry replied, folding the paper into quarters and putting it in his pocket. "I mean, even if I can't think of any more people, Pony's testimony will probably do, right?"

"Oh, about Pony, I almost forgot to mention his part. It's a bit different than the other testifiers. He won't sit on the stand and the lawyers won't get a change to interview him."

"They won't?" All of a sudden, Darry felt nervous.

"No. Instead, the judge will talk to him, just one on one. After all, there is no jury, just the judge and his final word."

Darry tried to smile at Annabelle, but his mouth felt stuck around the edges.

XXX

Soda fidgeted with a car without making any real progress. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure what was wrong with it. In a couple hour's, the owner would be back to claim it and all Soda had was... a pile of metal with seats and a steering wheel. Honestly, even a novice mechanic could see the rust on the geriatric vehicle. If Soda had to give an educated guess, he would have to say that not one thing was wrong with it. Rather, age and the elements had totaled the poor automobile, making it better suited for the salvage yard than the road.

Soda kicked its deflated tire for good measure before moving onto the next car.

Ever since Jesse had shown up at the doorstep with his lawyer, Soda hadn't been able to think straight. All he could think about was the week Pony ran away. Boy, if there had been lonelier time in his life, he couldn't think of it.

Sighing, Soda popped the hood of an old Ford pickup, fishing around under the hood for nothing in particular.

Grief. Soda knew the word too well. When his parents died, grief hit where it hurt. Hard. For weeks, he couldn't smile. He could hardly get out of bed. But he finally hardened his heart and swallowed back his tears until his throat ached. But he moved on, with his head held high. And he was still the some old Sodapop Curtis, on the outside at least.

Then he lost Johnny and Dally. And the grief came again. He kept on thinking that if he lost Pony, it'd be like losing Mom and Dad, Johnny and Dally, to the cool, unforgiving throws of death.

Soda shook his head.

Going to California wasn't comparable to dying.

He sighed, setting to work on that old Ford.

XXX

It was after track practice, later at night. Pony had completed all his homework and now, he sat up, waiting for Soda and Darry to come home from work. He finished one book Jesse had given him and he was about to start on another when an urge overtook him.

Before he could stop himself, Pony walked over to the where he had hidden Jesse's presents. From brightly colored paper bags, Pony extracted a pair of khakis, a light blue shirt, and a navy blue blazer. He put the clothes on. He parted his greasless hair, looking at himself in the mirror.

He looked like a soc.

He looked like a future lawyer.

A doctor.

A businessman.

Angrily, Pony turned away from the mirror, ripping off those stupid clothes, shoving them back into the bottom of the closet. He was being stupid. Beyond stupid. Darry had sacrificed so much to keep him. How ungrateful it was for him to jump up and go away with the first person who offered him a few cheap presents.

Just months ago, just the thought of living with people other than his brothers made him sick. It gave him nightmares. Losing his parents was tough enough.

But...

But Pony couldn't help but think how nice his life would be, living on the shores of southern California, impressing the girls with his toughness, his tuff southern accent. His build. Going to school, learning.

Being rich.

Being one of _them_ for the first time.

He took the blazer back out, putting it on again, his chest bare underneath.

Oh yeah.

He looked good.


	11. Chapter 11

Jesse had to cash in a lot of owed favors.

Mr. Card, his lawyer, had told him about the testimonies, and anyone and everyone who could speak on Jesse's behalf lived all the way in California. Immediately upon hearing the news, Jesse made a mental list of everyone he had helped out over the years.

He used to watch his neighbor's kids when he was in high school, without pay because the family was going through a tough time financially.

Jesse saved the life of his college football coach when he had a heart attack. He and Jesse had been having a private conversation when it happened.

When Jesse's colleague, Dr. Orson, got drunk at a bar and couldn't drive home, Jesse had driven thirty miles out of his way to pick him up. Jesse then drove to his own home so Dr. Orson wouldn't have to go home to his wife in his inebriated state.

He lent countless friends money, helped them move, just stood there like a solid rock while they suffered a tough time in their lives.

He called all of them, telling each one a similar story. He vaguely detailed his mother's teenage love affair, his father's death, and the sorry state he found his three half brothers living in. When he described Ponyboy's situation, he could hear the little sighs of sympathy on the other end of the line.

"Of course I'll help."

The response was always the same. Even if a certain person in question did have a previous engagement, he dropped it immediately.

"Of course I'll help, man. You've helped me out enough times in my life."

Laura and her parents came, too.

"We're family now..."

Laura's father's voice echoed in Jesse's head.

"The best offense is a good defense," Mr. Card said as Jesse turned in a list of his testifiers to his lawyer. "These people will all defend you. But what if I could I knew of a good offense?"

"What?" Jesse asked, his interest piqued. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you'll," Mr. Card said, his eyebrows moving up and down manically. "This one testimony will for sure win us the case."

XXX

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

Pony stood before his mirror. He wore the new clothes Jesse bought him, his hair parted to the side. Darry had told him to dress nice to impress the judge.

"What was that?" Soda popped his head into the room. He too was trying to look his best. He had ironed his nicest pair of pants the night before and he now buttoned up his one shirt that didn't have copious amounts of stains.

"I didn't say nothin'," Pony muttered, tugging at his suit jacket.

Soda stared at his little brother for several moments before speaking again.

"Where'd you get those?"

"They were just laying around," Pony lied. "They must have been dad's old clothes or something."

"They look new," Soda replied, stepping fully into the bedroom. He finished buttoning his shirt, mussing with his hair. He wore it in his usual style, without grease, longish golden strands obscuring his ears. "And expensive."

Pony opened his mouth as if to respond, but Darry walked into the room. The eldest Curtis stood clad in a suit of khaki pants and a brown jacket. He had parted his hair to the side. Wholly, he looked like a different person than the youngest two brothers knew.

"Hurry up," Darry said impatiently. "We're gonna be late. Pony, make sure you bring a book or some homework or something else to do."

"What?" Pony asked. "Why?"

"Cause there's gonna be a lot of sitting around, doing nothing," Darry replied.

"Can't I just come in and watch the hearing?"

"No, you can't. Soda can, but ain't allowed in."

"But that's not fair!" Pony wailed.

Darry slowly massaged the bridge between his eyebrows.

"Finish getting ready," Darry said softly, his patience already tested. "We leave in five minutes."

XXX

Fifteen minutes later, the three Curtis boys found themselves in Darry's old truck. They felt odd, each one dressed in his finest attire. It was Tuesday, and usually on Tuesdays, Soda worked from noon until midnight. Darry left the house at four in the morning and didn't return until nine at night. Pony ran three miles and then went to school.

Today, it felt different. It didn't feel right.

XXX

Jesse arrived at the courthouse with Mr. Card. Already, sitting in the benches next to the large courtrooms of family court sat Jesse's testifiers. Among them was Laura and her parents. The Peters had stayed at a different hotel downtown. They meant to eat breakfast together, but Jesse had slept late.

"Hey," Jesse said as Laura walked towards him. They gave each other a hug, a peck on the cheek, before sitting down next to each other.

"Nervous?" Laura asked.

"Words can't even describe," Jesse muttered, shaking his head.

"Don't worry. You're the obvious choice. The judge will have to be crazy to rule against you."

"Thanks for the pep talk, coach," Jesse teased. "I'm sure you're right. There's really no reason to be this afraid. With Mr. Card's help, I've built up such a good defense."

"See?" Laura smiled. "You've practically already won. You've just got to go through the motions. By this time tomorrow, we'll be on our way to California with your little brother."

As she spoke the words, the three Curtis brothers entered the far end of the hallway. The brothers were well out of earshot.

"There they are," Jesse said, pointing. "The shortest one is Ponyboy. The blond is Sodapop. And the big guy is Darrel."

"My Goodness," Laura whispered. "He looks exactly like you."

"Darrel? I know. Apparently, we both take after our dad."

The brothers' path was diverted as a young, pretty girl in a skirt suit accosted them. The woman led them to another vein in a hallway. Jesse and Laura watched as they disappeared.

"Pony's wearing the new clothes I bought for him," Jesse noted, his voice almost soft.

"That's a good sign!" Laura exclaimed. "That must mean he likes you."

"Yeah." Jesse tried to smile, but his lips felt stuck.

XXX

"All right," Annabelle smiled.

She had met briefly with her client and his two younger brothers before the hearing began for the day.

"It's time."

Darry nodded. He stood up from his spot on the bench.

"You can come in, Soda," Darry said. "But Pony, stay here. Read your book. Whatever. Just don't move."

Pony nodded his head wordlessly.

"Don't worry, Pony," Soda said. "I'll stay out with you."

"You don't have to do that," Pony replied.

"I know. But I want to." Soda didn't know why, but he felt like this might be one of the last times he could sit next to his brother knowing that after the day was done, they'd go home and be a family together.

XXX

"All rise for Judge Davis." The bailiff's voice echoed through the oak walls of the courtroom.

Darry scrambled to his feet as Annabelle rose gracefully. At the small table next to him, he watched as Jesse and Mr. Card got to their feet as well. With fearful eyes, Darry watched as a stately man in a black, billowing robe walked into the room, sitting down at his perch at the top of the room.

"Be seated," he grunted apathetically as he pushed a pair of glasses up his nose. He read some papers scattered at this podium before looking up. "Let's get started."

Darry watched as Jesse's lawyer stood up, prepared to give, in a sense, an opening statement. It wasn't exactly like in the crime movies. This was simply a time for each side to explain his case in his own words before the testimonies started.

"Judge Davis," Mr. Card practically purred, standing up, buttoning his jacket. "My client, Mr. Larson, met his brothers for the first time last month. At first, he was glad he found family. He is an orphan and his grandmother, who raised him, passed away. He soon realized, however, that a much graver situation resided here in Tulsa. He discovered that his youngest brother, Ponyboy, just a child of fifteen, was living in a dangerous situation. Not only is the boy being abused and neglected, he is also falling into the wrong crowds. Even at his young age, he has already been involved in the killing of another teenager. If he continues down the same path, Mr. Larson fears his brother will never grow up and go to college. Instead, Mr. Larson believes Ponyboy will find himself in prison, or, worse, dead."

Mr. Card paused here for dramatic effect before clearing his throat and beginning again.

"Judge Davis, it appears Ponyboy is in a very bleak situation. Fortunately, Mr. Larson understands this prodigious predicament. His love for his brother has compelled him here to court today, to fight for the right to give his little brother everything that he deserves. Thank you, Judge Davis. I trust you to make the right decision."

As Mr. Card sat down, Darry felt himself seething with anger. Abused? Neglected? Pony was neither of the those. Down the wrong path? Pony made straight A's. He was a track star. He was going to _college_, for Pete's sake.

Annabelle placed her hand on Darry's arm, calming him before she stood up, ready to start her own statement.

"Your Honor," Annabelle started, her voice ringing out clear and beautiful in the otherwise cold and barren room. "My client, Mr. Curtis, was thrown into parenthood when his parents passed away in a car accident two years ago. Since then, Mr. Curtis has forgone college and has worked multiple jobs at a time just to keep his two younger brothers out of a boys home. Ponyboy has done remarkably well in the last couple of years. He is an honor student and his a year ahead in school. He participates in extracurricular activities and is college bound.

"Your Honor, Mr. Curtis might not have a lot of money. What he has, though, is love. He loves his little brother more than anything in this world. Help keep this family together."

Annabelle sat down hastily, as if she wasn't quite sure of herself. Darry gave her a sideways smile. She smiled back, uneasily.

The game... well, it was on.

Now who would win?

**Raise your hand if you like this story. No. Seriously. If you are reading this story and enjoying it, please let me know! If enough people honestly like it, I'll make sure to finish this story before moving onto my next project. **


	12. Chapter 12

"I can't take this. What's taking so long? Man, do I need a cigarette."

"Pony," Soda muttered, rubbing his hands over his face. "Calm down, will ya? It's been fifteen minutes. And if you really need a smoke, there's an ashtray over there."

Soda vaguely pointed to a pedestal where a crystal dish lay next to a bench. Pony moved across the hall, digging in his jacket pocket for his pack of Kools. With trembling fingers, he extracted a slender, white stick, putting it to his lips and lighting up. The tremors began to ease, but didn't entirely stop as the smoke pushed in and out of Pony's body.

The gravity of the situation began to become apparent, frighteningly apparent. Today, Pony's fate would be decided. The rest of his life would hinge on this day. In the future, he could think back to a particular moment when his life was changed forever, put his finger on and actually attribute it to a particular individual.

It scared him.

"How long has been now?" Pony asked, his voice still shaky.

"About eighteen minutes. For Pete's sake, you're gonna drive both of us crazy."

"Dammit, Soda!" Pony cried. "I'm already crazy."

Soda shook his head. He hadn't meant to say what he did. But he was high strung, too. And this whole thing, well, honestly, it scared him to death.

"I'm sorry, Pony," Soda whispered. "I didn't mean nothin'."

"I know." Pony exhaled a low stream of white smoke. "I'm just..." He looked down, flicking his ashes into the crystal dish. "I'm just a little nervous, that's all. I want to know what's going on inside there."

"I could go check," Soda suggested.

For a moment, Pony said nothing. Then he slowly began nodding his head.

"Yeah. Go check. Tell me what's goin' on."

"Okay." Soda stood up, adjusting his tie, running a hand through his thick, blond hair. "All right. I'll be back in a minute."

"Take your time," Pony murmured absentmindedly, flicking his ashes, exhaling a puff.

Soda shot one last look at his little brother before walking down the hallway, turning a corner, facing the large, oak doors. With a small, scared sigh, he, as quietly as he could, opened up the door and scuttled inside. There weren't very many people in the room, which surprised Soda. In crime movies, the courtrooms were always packed between spectators and the jury. There were neither of those, just the judge, the bailiff, Jesse and Darry, and their respective lawyers. One person sat at the bench, a small, old woman Soda had never seen before. She had her hand on a bible.

"I do," she said.

Soda assumed she must be testifying on Jesse's behalf. His interest piqued, Soda chose a seat near the front, right behind where Darry and his lawyer, Annabelle Gibson sat. Darry shot Soda a quick look. Soda provided his signature smile. Darry nodded in return, turning his attention back to the front of the courtroom.

Soda watched as Jesse's lawyer stood up, making his way in front of the woman.

"Mrs. Welsh," purred Mr. Card. "How exactly do you know Jesse Larson?"

Soda felt his stomach turn. He didn't know why.

"We were next door neighbors for ten years," croaked Mrs. Welsh. She had a high pitched, wavering voice. "After Mr. Welsh passed away, the family was going through a hard time. Jesse volunteered to watch the kids."

"And what did Jesse expect in return?" Mr. Card asked, his eyebrows rising devilishly.

"Why, nothing! I tried to pay him several times, but he always turned the money away. Such good boy. Still is."

"How old were your children, Mrs. Welsh?"

"Well, they weren't mine biologically. They belonged to my niece, but she... could not longer care for the children. At the time, Bobby, the youngest, was nine and Hank, oldest, was eleven."

"What were some of the things Jesse did with the boys to keep them entertained?" Mr. Card held his hands in front of his torso in a triangular shape.

"Why, everything! They used to play football in the park. And in the summer time, Jesse would take them down to the drugstore for a sundae, his treat. In the winter, he would make forts out of blankets and they would pretend they were in a cave in Antarctica or something fanciful like that."

"Mrs. Welsh, did you ever feel... uncomfortable leaving Jesse with the boys? Did you ever wish you could find an alternate sitter?"

"Oh, never! Even if we had to pay Jesse, I would have still chosen him. He was the best. So responsible. When I left Jesse in charge, I never had to worry."

"Thank you, Mrs. Welsh. I have no more questions for you."

Mr. Card took his seat. Soda watched as Annabelle stood up, smoothing her skirt as she walked across the wooden floor.

"Hello, Mrs. Welsh. How are you today?" Annabelle asked conversationally.

"I'm fine, honey. How are you?"

"Very well." Annabelle smiled, revealing her perfect, white teeth. "Mrs. Welsh, when Jesse babysat for your nephews, did he ever watch them for more than five or six hours at a time?"

"Well," Mrs. Welsh thought hard. "Mostly, Jesse watched them from when school got out at three until I got home at seven. Sometimes, he'd watch them on a Saturday afternoon for a couple of hours while I did the grocery shopping. During the summer, the boys would go to a different neighbor's house during the day and Jesse would watch them in the afternoon."

"So, Jesse never had to watch them overnight?"

"Oh, no!" Mrs. Welsh shook her head. "I never trusted him with the responsibility. There was only one time I needed to go out of town without them and I got the help of an adult then."

"Did Jesse ever attend parent teacher conferences for the boys?" Annabelle's voice slowly lost its friendly charm, transitioning to a colder, harsher tone.

"Jesse was their babysitter. It wasn't his place to do things like that." Mrs. Welsh frowned. "I know what you're trying to do. Don't make it look like Jesse's a bad person for what he did."

"Believe me, Mrs. Welsh," Annabelle replied, a hint of sympathy in her voice. "I'm not trying to make Jesse look bad. I'm just trying to show Judge Davis that babysitting two boys in the evenings isn't comparable for being responsible for a teenager's well-being. It can serve as an example. I'm sure he is fantastic with children, but that doesn't mean that he could be the sole guardian of one. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I know what you mean," Mrs. Welsh said with a nod. "My little niece certainly wasn't able to handle motherhood, although she loved children."

Mrs. Welsh put a hand to her mouth as if she spoke too much.

"Thank you, Mrs. Welsh. You've been a fantastic help," Annabelle sputtered hastily, as if she were afraid Mrs. Welsh would recant her own words if she had the time.

Soda felt a little relieved at this conversation. Annabelle had been able to prove, through Mrs. Welsh's words, that Jesse might not be a suitable guardian for Ponyboy. A little more optimistic, he watched as the next testifier walked in through the large doors in the back. This man was built like a football player, broad shoulder, tall, muscles well defined in spite of his older age. He took the bench and he too swore to tell the truth and nothing but the truth.

Mr. Card stood up and faced this new member of the play.

"Coach Barnes," Mr. Card greeted pleasantly. "Could you please tell us how you know Jesse Larson?"

"Yes," Coach Barnes replied. "I coached him from his freshman year of college to his senior year. He might not have been the best athlete I've ever seen, but he was definitely the most reliable and trust worthy. He saved my life once you know..."

Coach Barnes went into the story about how he had his heartache and Jesse saved his life. When Mr. Card was done interviewing him, Annabelle decided not to interview him as well.

"It would have been a fishing expedition," Annabelle would later say. "The things that I would want to know, like if Jesse got drunk and violent, he wouldn't tell me. And technically, it wouldn't be lying if he did know and chose not to say anything. He could say 'I don't recall' and that would suffice. If anything, it'd look bad on our part if I kept barraging the testifier with obnoxious questions."

The next several testifiers went like that. Mostly, they spoke praise of Jesse, and since Annabelle couldn't think of questions that weren't vague and risky, she let them go without interviewing them. Finally, thin, wiry a middle aged man walked in. After being sworn in, Mr. Card stood up to speak to the man.

"Mr. Carter, please tell the Judge what is you do your a living and why you are here to testify today," Mr. Card commanded. The lawyer stood aside, letting the man on the stand speak.

"Well," the man began, his tenor voice strong, "I am the dean of the Epsilon Academy. This is a college preparatory school where our staff mixes strong academics with competitive extra curricular activities. Over 90 percent of kids who attend Epsilon graduate from a four year university. Nearly 50 percent attain their degrees from one of the top ten schools in the nation. That includes ivy league universities such as Harvard, Yale, Columbia and Princeton. I am here today because if Jesse is awarded custody of his youngest brother, Ponyboy Curtis, then the boy will attend Epsilon. He already has a guaranteed spot."

Soda heard a large intake of air and it took him a moment that it came from him. All the other information had been building Jesse up, letting the judge know that he was an all around great guy. Until this point, Soda hadn't been too worried because he knew Darry would have just as many testifiers letting the judge know that he was equally as liked. But this was something they couldn't give. They couldn't tell the judge that Ponyboy had a guaranteed spot at some expensive private school. Annabelle stood up as Mr. Card sat down. She turned around and winked at Soda, as if to say "don't worry. I go this."

"Mr. Carter," Annabelle began. "Do you know Ponyboy's class rank?"

"I do not," Mr. Carter replied. "I know he is an exceptionally bright youth, however, I do not know his exact rank."

"He is number five," Annabelle said. She held up a piece of paper, showing Mr. Card briefly before handing it to the judge. "That is a copy of Ponyboy's transcript and GPA. Mr. Carter, do you know what percentage of the top ten go on to complete college at Ponyboy's school?"

"I do not," Mr. Carter replied simply. The man held no emotion in his beady eyes.

"About nine out of those top ten go on to complete college. As for extracurricular activities, Ponyboy is ranked number 36 in the state as far as short distant runners go. He is one of the founders of the school's science club, which is currently working on a project they hope to submit to competition. In your opinion, does it sound like Ponyboy is receiving a quality education?"

"The boy sounds exceptionally bright," Mr. Carter repeated. "He will probably be very successful in life. But where will he go to college? University of Oklahoma? North Texas State? Those colleges are not exactly Harvard."

"I attended the University of Tulsa after I graduated from a public high school," Annabelle said. "And look at me. I became a lawyer."

"To each his own," Mr. Carter replied with apathy. "My school has steady, conclusive results. The facts speak for themselves."

Annabelle said nothing more. She sat down. The next testifier was a small, middle aged woman. Soda found her strangely familiar. He couldn't think why.

"Please state your name for the record," Judge Davis commanded.

She did.

"Barbara Sheldon."

And that's when it hit Soda.

She was Bob's mom.

**Thanks all who reviewed! I see now how many people are following this story. I'll make sure to finish it. Just drop me a review here and there just to let me know you're still reading. **


	13. Chapter 13

**I know this is short and doesn't reveal much. I sort of lost focus on this story, but I know some people are really enjoying it, so this is what I have. Maybe if I some time this summer, I'll continue it, but right now I can't even remember the direction this story is going in. If anyone wants to, you can finish the story up. I don't really care. **

"Mrs. Sheldon," Mr. Card simpered as he faced Bob's mother. "Do you know why you're here today?"

"Yes," Mrs. Sheldon replied, her voice strong and clear in the vast, barren courtroom. "Yes, I do know why I'm here. Your client wants custody of a Mr. Ponyboy Curtis."

"Precisely." Mr. Card revealed two rows of shiny white teeth. "Now, Mrs. Sheldon, I know this might be hard for you, but I want you to tell the judge what happened last year. Could you tell the judge exactly how your son Robert died?" Mr. Card's smile faded into a face contorted with sympathy.

Soda could see from his spot Mrs. Sheldon begin to shake slightly.

"I know what you're trying to do," Mrs. Card said, her voice surprisingly steady in spite of the tears coming down her face. She turned to Judge Davis. "Your honor, about a year ago, my son Robert got drunk and went looking for trouble. He and his friends almost killed two younger boys. Instead, my boy was killed."

She looked down, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

"Don't try to say Darrel Curtis is a bad guardian because his brother was involved in the death of my son. If that's true, then my little Rachel needs to be taken from me and placed into a home." She shook her head, tears flowing freely down her face. "If Bobby wasn't killed, then he would have been a murderer." She looked directly at Judge Davis, her blue eyes filled with tears. "And you better believe me when I say it, I'd rather have a dead son than a murdering son."

Mr. Card's face showed a look of disbelief. He blinked his eyes, slowly and deliberately.

"Mrs. Sheldon, surely you don't mean that." He gave a couple of nervous laughs, trying to save face.

"Mr. Card." Mrs. Sheldon turned to the lawyer, her face gone of the raw emotion, replaced with a prodigious seriousness. "I swore on the bible today, in front of God Himself. Do not accuse me of lying."

Realizing he could not redeem himself, Mr. Card hastily sat down. Annabelle gracefully stood up, facing Mrs. Sheldon.

"Mrs. Sheldon," Annabelle started. "Please, I just want to thank you for coming today. I know how hard this must be for you."

"Of course, honey," Mrs. Sheldon smiled sadly. "There really is nothing worse than losing a child."

"Thank you." Annabelle sat back down. Soda watched as Darry shot his young, pretty lawyer a smile.

Soda watched with more relief than he realized as the judge ruffled his papers.

"We'll have a two hour recess for lunch," Judge Davis said as he gathered his things and left the courtroom.


End file.
